Allopatric Speciation
by the morrighan
Summary: A new planet yields different results from the enzyme.
1. Chapter 1

Allopatric Speciation

Green.

Moira O'Meara lost herself in the dazzling green depths, the intensity of the color. She stared, transfixed by the brilliance, the warmth and passion emanating from each emerald orb. She leaned closer, closer, shifting her body. A soft sigh escaped her lips as another flush of pleasure cascaded along her body.

John Sheppard smiled, prone beneath her. He shifted his hips, thrust upwards as the pleasure rippled along his body. His gaze bore into hers, challenging, inviting all at once.

Moira caught his hands, pinned them back against the bed, to either side of his head as she moved yet again, a gyrating motion that set them both to enjoyable murmurs. She leaned close, her loose hair a brown curtain veiling them both as she kissed him. Lips claiming his, moving in rhythm to her body as she lifted yet again, then slid down as he filled her.

The knocking on the door froze Moira in place. She tensed. Every muscle tightened, causing John to groan in renewed pleasure as he thrust into her again. At the same time he prolonged the kiss, his mouth capturing hers, tongue gliding between her lips.

Moira turned her head quickly towards the door, breaking the passionate kiss. Her hair flew forward, spilling down to the swells of her breasts as she sat up, inadvertently causing another spasm of circling pleasure.

"Ignore it," John urged. He caressed her bare thighs as she straddled him.

"Moira?" a voice called. More knocking.

"Evan," she recognized. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, alarm. She glanced at John. "It must be important."

"As important as this?" he retorted. Shifting under her again, but she lifted up and freed him.

"Give me a minute, Evan! I'll be right there!" she called, sliding off John. He watched her hastily pull on a blue t-shirt and khaki pants. Approving of the lack of underwear he smiled.

"I'll take care of this," John offered. "Ma–" he started, voice becoming louder.

Moira whirled, pounced on him and covered his mouth with her hand. "John! Ssh! What happened to being discreet?" she scolded in a whisper.

He moved her hand off his mouth to reply. "I'll make an exception in this case."

"Moira?" Evan called again, staring at the door. Perplexed.

"I'm just coming!" she called, freeing herself.

"Funny...so was I," John quipped. He stifled his laughter under her glare.

Moira threw his black t-shirt at him, then threw the covers over him entirely. She hastened to the door, ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. She glanced behind her, making certain John was covered, concealed. She opened the door. "Evan? You're back." She eyed his olive BDUs and TAC vest.

He quirked a brow. "Obviously. Are you all right?"

She nodded, brushed a strand of hair from her flushed face, ignored the frustrated longings of her body. Ignored the fact that John was in her bed, naked, hiding under the covers. "Yes...I wasn't feeling well so I decided to take a quick nap." Hearing a muffled laugh behind her she continued, louder, "But I am feeling better now. What is it?"

"We found something on MP3XY2. I think you should take a look at it," he explained, glancing up and down at her unkempt appearance. Past her to the rumpled bed. Blankets wildly askew.

"All right. Give me ten minutes and I will meet you in the biology lab," she offered. Smiled. Closed the door. Sighed. She stepped to the bed. "That was close. Too close. John?" She yanked the covers down to reveal his handsome face set in a grin.

"By the way, Moira, I do like the no underwear look," he teased. Laughed as she threw his pants at him.

"Get dressed, colonel. I wonder what Evan found. It must be something unusual, maybe a new species or another ancient life form," she mused, sitting on the bed to retrieve her underwear.

John sat up, caught her, pulled her down to him. "Can't it wait? Give me five minutes, Moira," he urged. Paused, considered. Smiled. "All right, maybe ten. I can't deliver my best under this rush but I will do my very best so we are both satisfied."

***************************************************************************

Twenty minutes later Moira all but ran into the biology lab. She slowed to a fast walk, smoothing down her clothes, feeling her underwear in place. She tightened the ponytail holder securing her hair. "Evan? What did you find?"

He turned, separated himself from the group of scientists all clustered around a table. "What took you so long?" he chastised.

She smiled at the phrase, having used it often to tease John, but replied, "I was detained. Delayed. Um...so, what did you find?" she repeated, shoving aside pleasant, erotic memories.

"This." He shooed away the scientists. "We found this on MP3XY2. It's an ice planet, full-on winter. We managed to pry this from the ice and snow."

Moira stared, nearing the table. An elongated skull, still sparkling with bits of ice stared back at her. A pool of water was forming beneath it. She gingerly touched it, ran her hand over the broad cranium. The huge eye sockets. The small jaw. The large, misshapen teeth. "It's...it's vaguely human...but not quite...not..." she hesitated.

"At first I thought it was one of the denizens of Miocene Park, because of the long canines. See?" He pointed to the tusk-like protrusions. "But the shape of the skull suggests a primate, doesn't it?"

She nodded, turned the skull slowly. "I would agree, judging by the shape of the head, the brain capacity. But look...these back molars. The hinge of the jaw...they appear human. Deformed, or underdeveloped but close to human."

"Except the only unusual humans or pre-humans we've encountered were much smaller. Miocene Park," he reminded.

"Pleistocene Park," John corrected, joining them. "At ease, major," he waved away protocol. "What is this?"

"The thing is, sir, Moira, there are over a hundred more of them. All jammed together in the same area." Evan glanced at John, then at Moira.

"More? There are more of them?" she asked, meeting his gaze, startled. "Skulls or complete skeletons?" She could feel John standing right behind her as she touched Evan's arm.

"Both. We couldn't dig out a complete skeleton in the time allotted us. I figured this would suffice for now."

"Is it...was it human?" John corrected. Eyed the strange skull over Moira's shoulder.

"Possibly. At the very least we can say it was humanoid...or wait...wait!" She dashed to her desk, hastily rifled through pages. Produced a composite sketch. "Look! It resembles the drawing, Evan! The one you made from my descriptions! It looks like one of those cave creatures from the waterfall planet! John, do you remember?"

"Ah...M1K436," John said, smiling suggestively at her. "How did it end up on MP3XY2? Or was it the other way around?"

"That's a good question," she agreed, ignoring his salacious expression, the memories of their almost-erotic encounter. "Evan, you said there were more?"

"Hundreds, Moira. In a mass grave about ten klicks from the Stargate. You will have to see."

"No." John's one word dissipated their enthusiasm. "I see no reason to expend resources or a trip to Hoth to hunt for Wampas."

Moira smiled at the reference, frowned at his refusal. "John...colonel...John..." she floundered, causing a smile to tug at his lips. "Colonel Sheppard, this could be important! Those creatures–"

"We don't even know what those creatures are, Moira, oh, Doctor O'Meara," he argued smoothly, teasing her at the same time. "If they were even human."

"This might be a good way to find out, sir," Evan suggested, siding with Moira. "She can examine the site and see more examples."

"We'll need to find tissue samples, if possible,"she agreed. "It's possible some flesh or DNA could be extracted, preserved in the extreme cold. Carson could test the bone marrow to determine if the enzyme still exists in their systems, providing another link to the creatures on the waterfall planet. They could be the same species or a sub-species, or a whole new population that evolved in the harsher environment in response to–"

John held up a hand, thwarting her rising enthusiasm, speculation. "No. I see no reason at this time. Work with what you have here." Having decided he turned and strolled out of the lab.

"Well...I guess that's that...so we... Moira?"

Moira was shaking her head, staring after John. "No. We can't just ignore this, Evan! I can talk him round...maybe..." Doubt as she recalled his stubbornness. She hastened after him, rushing to catch up to his long strides. "John! Colonel!" she called, reaching him at the end of the hall. "I don't think we should ignore–"

He turned to her as a group of people passed. "Neither do I, but we are not sending a team there.

Any team."

"Why not? Aren't you at all curious about these creatures? How they got onto another planet in the first place? If they were sentient enough to use the Stargate? If these two populations are related, or somehow evolved independently of one another? John, we may be looking at an example of allopatric speciation!"

"Fascinating as that is..." he drolly observed, smirking, brows knitting together in puzzlement, "I will not send a–"

"John! Allopatric speciation! A new species evolving due to geographic isolation from the originating species over a long period of time, reacting to a new environment and developing new behaviors and physiognomies to compensate for the new stresses and–"

"Whoa, whoa," he held up a hand again, but Moira was in full flow now.

"And new ecosystems," she continued. "Assuming that these two disparate populations are even related, even remotely, even possibly human or pre-human or something entirely new in the Pegasus galaxy! And how did so many die on that ice planet, seemingly all at once?" She gasped, caught John's arm. "John! You could have turned into one of those for all we know! If the enzyme is present in any of the–"

"Moira!" he snapped, trying to interject, to halt her rushing words. "More reason to shelve this expedition now. We have more pressing needs than a field mission to an inhospitable world. I won't expend manpower or resources for an esoteric excursion just to satisfy your scientific curiosity."

"It could be important, John!" she argued. "Will you for once forget the goal of military applications and just approve a mission for the pure scientific–"

"As I recall last time I did that we ended up in a jungle with Ford. Remember?" He smiled.

"I certainly won't forget it. Besides," he added, cutting off her protest, "I don't like the cold."

"John! You don't have to go! Evan can lead his team back there!"

"Go study the skull," he reiterated. Folded his arms across his chest. Waited. She sighed, whirled, headed back for the lab. "Oh, Moira," he called merrily, staring at her retreating form, "I do prefer the no underwear look. Remember that for next time, please." He smirked as she whirled to glare at him.

"Shut up, John!" She turned and headed back for the lab as his laughter chased her up the hall.

Evan frowned as she strode towards him, expression frustrated, infuriated. "No go, I take it," he noted, shrugged.

"No! But we can find a way round him," she vowed. Smiled. "Doctor Weir. Being a civilian she will be more amenable to scientific inquiry. And Carson will need those samples to make any kind of verification."

"True, but–"

"Weir's in charge, isn't she?" Moira insisted, hoisting the skull into her arms. "It will just be like show and tell. Come on!" She headed out of the lab. "Let me do the talking," she advised over her shoulder as Evan followed. "I'll handle the hypothesis. You handle the charm."

He laughed. "As always, Moira."

*************************************************************************

John twirled the sticks he held, circled his opponent warily. "So...Teyla not back from the mainland yet?"

Ronon Dex shook his head, hoisting his own sticks with a dramatic flourish. "No. There's some elaborate Athosian ceremony involving the birth of a child and a blessing."

"Not really your idea of a good time?" John quipped, swinging his fighting sticks to hit Ronon.

He blocked the blow easily, deflected it like an afterthought. Smiled. "No. I'd rather do this."

"Good choice. Those Athosians like long, talky ceremonies," John agreed. He swung again.

Stick hit stick in a quick, circling combat. Faster. Harder. Finally Ronon twisted, blocked, and hit John squarely in the side. John staggered back from the blow. "Sorry," he smirked. "Is that why you're not attending?"

John paused, probed his side. Straightened. Twirled the two sticks again. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking," he caustically noted. "And yes. That's why."

"Oh."

The sticks clattered, whirled. Striking each other with increasing precision, increasing speed. John ducked low, twisted, blocked high. Hit Ronon in the leg. The Satedan stepped back, grunted in surprise.

"Why? You think I should be there?" asked John. "That's more an Elizabeth job." Then, as an afterthought. "Oh, sorry."

Ronon grinned at the insincerity, shrugged. Swung the sticks. "I'm fine, by the way. No...you seem to be pre-occupied here. On Atlantis."

John nearly missed blocking a blow to the head. He side-stepped, swung, circled. "There's a lot of paperwork when I'm not on a mission," he explained, the sticks moving fast, faster. "I like to leave it until the last minute."

"That's not what I meant," Ronon smirked. He blocked several attacks as they shifted their feet, their arms. Back and forth across the exercise room, circling , switching in an elaborate dance. Until John inflicted a blow on Ronon's arm, making him drop the stick.

John smiled. "Now who's pre-occupied?" he taunted.

Ronon scowled, picked up the fallen stick. "You are," he countered gruffly. "By some mysterious and unknown...paperwork."

John's gaze narrowed at the way he said the words, the silent insinuation. Implying something else. Someone else. He swung the sticks in front of him, crisscrossing them in a showy display of speed, if not skill. He kept silent.

"What's her name?" Ronon asked bluntly. He thrust his two sticks between John's, catching both of them and slamming them to the floor. Caught off-guard John slipped, fell onto his back, groaned in protest.

Ronon laughed, held out a hand. John hesitated, eying his friend but reached up to him. Ronon hauled him to his feet.

"You've got the wrong end of the stick," John argued, rubbing his lower back.

"Really? Which end?" He turned the stick in his hand back and forth, examining it.

"It's a...oh never mind," John replied, shaking his head at Ronon's literal comprehension.

"That serious, huh?" he jested.

John frowned, a sarcastic retort on his lips when the intercom pinged. "Colonel Sheppard, please report to the medical bay," intoned the Scottish voice of Carson Beckett.

"Ah. Saved by the bell. This time," John warned. Setting his sticks aside he headed for the doorway.

"What bell?" Ronon asked, brow furrowed in puzzlement.

**************************************************************************

Elizabeth Weir looked away from her computer screen to see Moira and Evan entering her office. "I take it this concerns MP3XY2?" she surmised, as Moira set the large skull on a pile of reports and data files. The empty eye sockets stared sightlessly at her.

Moira smiled, glanced at Evan. "Yes, Doctor Weir. I believe these remains may be similar, if not identical to the creatures we encountered on M1K436."

"The creatures that might have been human once. The creatures infected with the enzyme," Elizabeth clarified.

"Yes," Moira agreed. "I've spoken with Carson. If we could recover tissue samples we could learn a great deal about the enzyme's affects. How it works. How it became so virulent to create these mutations. If this is afflicting two separate populations it could spread further."

"I see. Major?" Elizabeth's gaze fell upon the so far silent soldier.

"I think this warrants a second look, ma'am. Not because we found one, but hundreds. As Moira said, an entire population. Interred all together, in one area. Whether by natural or unnatural means," Evan stated. Glanced at Moira.

"The cold of the planet may have had an adverse affect on the enzyme," Moira reasoned. "This could be a clue to its chemical composition. Maybe even a cure could be discovered for Lieutenant Ford. Or a way to ameliorate the deadly affects of the Hoffan serum on humans. The implications of the–"

"Have you spoken to Colonel Sheppard about this?" Elizabeth interrupted.

"Yes, ma'am, we–" Evan began.

"Discussed it at length," Moira smoothly intercepted, a slight jab from her elbow reaching Evan's ribs, "otherwise we wouldn't be here now. Of course he dismissed the scientific value of the findings but agreed it bore further inquiry." Which was true, to a point, but Moira did not clarify.

"I agree," Elizabeth stated. "Major, take a Jumper and your team to do a quick sampling. If you can find any viable specimens proceed. Radio in with us in two hours with your findings."

"Thank you, Doctor Weir." Moira smiled. "I'll go grab a kit from Carson. Meet you at the Jumper bay, Evan."

"I'll have my team assembled in twenty minutes, ma'am," Evan assured, sensing the necessity of speed. He followed Moira out of the office.

*************************************************************************

"You called, doc?" John sauntered into the infirmary, having stopped by his quarters to change into a clean shirt, then to grab a bite to eat. Taking his time as the summons did not seem dire. Curious he glanced round, noted the empty beds. No injuries. No accidents. No illnesses.

Carson nodded. "Aye. I think you'll find this interesting, colonel. Take a look." He gestured at the microscope perched on a table.

John was puzzled. Nevertheless he peered through the twin lenses. Saw cells moving on a slide. Yellowish ones attacking, absorbing red ones. The oozing fluids caught in a battle, swirling, reminiscent of the circling attack he had been engaged in with Ronon. "Yes...that's very...interesting...wow..." He stepped back, brows furrowed in quizzical annoyance. "Thanks for sharing, Carson."

Carson smiled. "It's a wee sample I managed to scrape from the interior of the skull. I will need more to prove it conclusively."

"To prove what?"

"The enzyme levels nearly match your own. When you first ingested the plant, not when you returned. I extrapolated backwards. You see what that means?"

"Yeah, you worked backwards from what you knew to what you didn't," John snidely commented, but then realized, "Wait. The creatures are identical to the ones on M1K436."

"No," Carson replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "Nearly so, but these have an even greater genetic mutation. Judging by the skull this enzyme saturation changed them on a molecular level. Not only did it infect their bloodstream, their glands, but it significantly altered their brain chemistry. With enough exposure and ingestion the same could have happened to you, John. I still need more samples to confirm, but the potential applications to the–"

"I'm afraid you won't be getting those samples, Carson. Keep working on–"

"Really? I gave Moira a kit, just in case, but you may be right. The remains may have been frozen far too long or exposed to the elements for years to obtain any viable–"

"Moira? When was this?" John asked, surprised. Suspicious.

"Oh, about ten minutes ago, colonel. Colonel?" Carson stared after John's rapidly retreating form. Long strides taking him out of the infirmary in record time.

"Major Lorne, report! Major Lorne!" John snapped into his earpiece. He stalked into the control room. "Sargent, locate Major Lorne!"

"I'm afraid you just missed him, John," Elizabeth called from her office. "They just left."

John looked up but Elizabeth had retreated into her office from the balcony. In quick strides he was up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He stepped to her desk. Glared at the skull sitting there. "You authorized this?" He calmed himself at her puzzled gaze. "Sorry."

"Yes. Major Lorne said he had discussed it with you."

"And I refused the mission. By any chance did Doctor O'Meara do the talking?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, in fact she did most of it. She was quite compelling. I'm sorry, John, I just assumed they had cleared it with you first. They are due to report back in two hours."

"Good. I'll be waiting," he said tightly. Turning on his heels he headed to the control room, pursing his lips together to keep the swear words from escaping.

"Oh, John!" He paused, turned back to her. "Could you get this skull off my desk?"

********************************************************************

Moira stared as the Jumper cleared the 'Gate and swooped over the snowy landscape. She adjusted her sunglasses against the glare of sunlight. Bouncing off the snow the affect was nearly blinding, a wash of white on white with glittering sparks of crystals. The cockpit viewport tinted accordingly, turning the scene to a more eye-friendly shade of gray. "It is Hoth," she murmured.

Evan smiled. "Nearly so. We'll take an overview from here, then set down. To your left."

She looked, removing her sunglasses. A shallow indent on the snowy landscape was littered iwth skeletons. Hundreds. Extending for several feet. Starkly cream-colored against the snow. She balked at the sight. "It looks like a mass grave...a...a killing field."

"It reminded me of a mammoth pit," Evan agreed. "We'll go beyond, then back." He flew the ship smoothly over the remains. "As far as I can tell most of the planet is covered in ice and snow. Wasn't Earth like that at one time?"

"Yes. Snowball Earth. A theory about the geological evolution of the planet before life had even formed on it."

"Snowball Earth?" asked Aaron Josephes from the seat behind her. The young marine shook his head. "Is that for real?"

Moira glanced at him, smiled. "Yes, Aaron. It is a radical new theory about the Earth's early development. A calamitous freeze that encompassed the entire globe around six hundred fifty million years ago. Massive glaciers descended from the poles to cover the oceans, then the continents which at that time were grouped closer around the equator."

"An extreme Ice Age, caused by the greenhouse affect, only in reverse," Thomas Kavanaugh continued the explanation. "Instead of warming the climate it had the opposite affect, cooling it severely. The atmosphere of methane and carbon dioxide was removed drastically, resulting in the deep freeze."

"The only life at that time on Earth was in the oceans. Cyanobacteria. Blue-green algae that had evolved to rely on photosynthesis to survive. But this planet's air is breathable, isn't it?" she asked, gazing back down at the whiteness beneath them.

"Yes," Evan said, shaking his head at all the scientific discussion. "It's more like the last Ice Age in that regard."

"It's immense!" she commented, as the expanse stretched and stretched. The off-white bones stuck out awkwardly from the smooth snow and ice.

Beyond the shallow valley ice glittered flatly. The land abruptly rose in a series of rocks and caverns. Dark openings surrounded by walls of sheer ice.

"Could anything live in there, Moira?" Aaron asked worriedly. His fingers played over the comforting solidity of his P90. "More of those...things?"

"Or what killed them," Thomas grimly suggested. His gaze was on the blank data screen in his hands.

"It is possible. Animals can adapt to the cold. So can people. Or other life forms," she answered. Uncertain.

The Jumper turned slowly, flew in an arc back towards the shallow valley. Choosing carefully Evan settled the vehicle onto the ground. Ice and snow puffed around the ship. "We checked," Evan assured, unbuckling himself from the seat. "The land is solid beneath us. More than likely several feet of permafrost. Just be careful when we reach the edge of the valley."

She smiled, unbuckled. Pulled on a blue parka, gloves, grabbed the sample kit. "I just need a few viable specimens."

"No life form readings," Thomas stated. "No technology. Quite a bit of static electricity. The stratosphere is quite dense."

"All right, let's move out. Josephes, take the six. Kavanaugh, keep an eye on those readings, just in case. O'Meara, with me."

The air was cold. As the hatch opened the thin atmosphere seemed to suck all the accumulated warmth from the vehicle. Took the breath from their mouths. A stillness hung on the quiet surroundings. Nothing stirred, except the top layer of snow when a breeze whistled.

Moira stepped after Evan, walking in his footsteps as he trampled down the snow. Reaching the slight incline of the valley he paused, stepped aside. She knelt in the snow, stared for a moment. The sheer immensity of the remains spreading before her was overwhelming. "So many..." She brushed snow off the nearest bones. "What could have happened?"

Evan shook his head. "I don't know. But it must have been swift. Brutal." His keen gaze swept the valley, the white distances.

Moira tried to dislodge a twisted leg bone, but it was held fast in the ice. "Evan, help me."

Evan glanced at Aaron. The lieutenant shook his head. Nothing was in sight. Evan knelt, setting his gun aside. "This one?"

"Yes. Or here." Moira tugged as Evan pulled. An audible crack split the air as the bone snapped. It sounded like a gunshot. Aaron tightened his hold on his weapon. Thomas started, dropping his scanner. It disappeared into the snow. Cursing he bent to retrieve it.

"Find anything useful?" Evan asked.

"Maybe. Hold the kit," Moira instructed.

Evan opened the plastic bin, waited as Moira took out a scalpel. She dug at the broken bone, scraping the interior.

"There's no tissue that I can see. Maybe further in...maybe buried under the...damn! It's as solid as a rock." She forced the blade along the bone. "Here."

"We could just take the bone itself," Evan suggested as she procured a sample, dropped it into the bin. Sealed it shut.

"Oh. I guess." She wrapped the broken bone in plastic, set it in the case. "Let me try another one." She scooted down the incline, dug through snow and ice to search out a likely candidate.

Her breath caught in her throat as she cleared more snow. "Oh my...it can't...it can't be..."

"Moira? What have you found?" Concerned Evan joined her.

"This is not a mass grave. Well, it is...but it was a killing field!"

"How can you be sure?"

"These grooves." She ran her hand down the slotted marks on an elongated arm bone. "These were made by weapons. High-powered weapons. Hold on."

"Major Lorne!" Thomas tramped to them, taking big steps across the snow. "I'm detecting an energy reading. Very faint. Very weak. From the north." He pointed.

"That wasn't here before," Evan commented. "Can you pinpoint the exact location?"

"Not yet. It's very weak. There's a great amount of interference. But I will try."

"Life signs?" Hearing Moira grunt he turned back to see her prying into another bone with the scalpel. She lifted the object from the bone.

"Not yet. No." Thomas frowned, fiddling with his equipment.

"Evan! Is this a bullet?" She turned, dropped the misshapen object into the kit.

Evan eyed it. "It's a bullet, all right. From a P90." He glanced at his own weapon, lying starkly in the snow. He snapped the lid closed, grabbed his gun. Stood.

"A P90? Your..." She stared at his weapon. "But how–"

"You tell me. I think we just landed ourselves a proper mission, Moira. Finish up here. We need to report our findings."

"Evan, what if we...I think we caused this," she accused.

He met her anxious gaze. "All the more reason to find out exactly what happened." He turned, headed up the incline. "Kavanaugh?"

"The signal's gone, major. I'll keep trying to pick it up again. We should do a scan of the whole planet, just in case."

"All right. Let's head back. Moira?"

She stood, climbed the slope. "It's eerie," she stated, carrying the kit. She glanced back at the silent bones. The white land. The white sky. "I keep expecting..."

"Someone to appear? I know. I feel it too," he agreed quietly. "I don't like it. Here."

Moira stared at the 9mm gun he offered. "No. I don't–"

"You do now. Just in case. Keep it in your coat," he suggested. "Safety's on."

"Good to know." Distastefully she took the weapon. Slipped it into the inner pocket of her parka. She followed the men back to the Jumper. Once inside she stowed the kit, stuffed her gloves into the parka's pockets.

Evan moved to the front of the ship, stomping snow off his boots. He dialed the 'Gate. "Here we go." He glanced back at his team, then ahead. "This is Major Lorne, checking in from MP3XY2. Atlantis, are you receiving?" A pause. "Atlantis, do you copy?"

"Major Lorne." John's voice came over the transmission, clear as crystal. And just as cutting. His anger was palpable. "Return to Atlantis immediately."

"Oh oh," Evan muttered, glanced at Moira. Out loud he said, "Colonel Sheppard, we have made some startling discoveries."

"As have I, major. Return to Atlantis now. That is a direct order."

"Yes, sir. Returning to–"

"Wait." Moira leaned on the console. "John, we can't leave yet. We have made some incredible discoveries. We might be responsible for this! We have to find–"

"I was talking to Major Lorne. Major, are you disobeying a direct order?"

"No, sir. Returning now." He shut off the transmission before Moira could protest. "Strap in, people. Looks like our trip is finished."

"I'm sorry, Evan," Moira apologized as the Jumper began to rise. "I should have realized. I mean, I didn't want to get you into any serious trouble. Into any trouble! I'll explain–"

What the hell is Colonel Sheppard's problem today? It's like he got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning," Evan grumbled, flying the ship towards the event horizon.

Moira looked at her hands to hide her suppressed laugh. "Something like that." She sobered. "Look, Evan I will explain–"

"No. I made the decision. I'll take the blame. I agree with you that this is too important to ignore. And now we have an energy signal. That should at least whet his appetite."

"But I–"

"I'll do the talking, Moira. You just lay on the charm."

She smiled. "Okay, major."


	2. Chapter 2

Allopatric Speciation2

The team sat in the Jumper for a moment, as Evan shut down all systems. The trip through the Stargate had been silent, smooth. "Well, we'd better get this over with," he ruefully commented.

"Evan, I'm so sorry!" Moira apologized again. "I'll try to reason with John...with Colonel Sheppard," she awkwardly corrected.

"No. It will be fine. I expect once we reveal our findings it will blow over."

John watched the hatch finally open on the ship. Arms folded across his chest he silently waited, a grim expression on his face. He watched Evan lead his team down the ramp, pause briefly, then cross to him. He stopped, smartly saluted as did Aaron. Thomas was fumbling in his gloves with his scanner. Moira shifted the sample kit from hand to her other.

"Colonel. Reporting from MP3XY2, as ordered, sir," Evan formally announced.

An uncomfortable silence. Aaron nervously shifted his stance. Thomas audibly swallowed, grasping his scanner tightly. Moira stared at John. Evan stood ramrod straight, hands at his sides, waiting.

Moira sighed audibly, took a step forward but Evan signaled her back, turning his index finger in a circle. She relented, stepped back to stand with the rest of the team.

John recognized the dial it down signal, would have found it amusing under different circumstances. Finally he spoke, his voice clipped. Precise. "Lieutenant Josephes, take whatever samples have been procured to Doctor Beckett."

"Yes, sir!" With alacrity Aaron took the sample case from Moira. He marched out of the bay.

"Doctor Kavanaugh, do you have anything to report?"

"No, colonel. I mean, yes, colonel," the scientist stammered under John's hard gaze. "An anomalous energy signal, but it faded before we had a chance to investigate."

"Take your readings to Doctor McKay."

Thomas nodded. He glanced at Moira, at Evan, then scurried out of the bay.

"Major Lorne."

"Sir?"

Moira stepped forward again, unable to stop herself. "John, it was my fault. I went to Weir. I convinced her of the–"

He ignored her, eyed his subordinate. "Major Lorne, I understand you disobeyed my orders, duped Doctor Weir, and went to MP3XY2?"

"Yes, sir," Evan agreed evenly.

"It wasn't his fault, John!" Moira tried again. "I talked to Doctor Weir. She saw the scientific value of this expedition, even if you didn't."

John continued as if he hadn't heard her. "I see. Can you give me a good reason for blatantly defying my orders?"

"He didn't, John! I talked him into–"

His gaze slid to her briefly, then to Evan. "Is that true, major? Are you under her command now? Or mine?"

"Yours, sir," Evan replied calmly. Seemingly unruffled by the exchange.

"We are all under Doctor Weir's–" Moira interrupted again.

John finally met her exasperated gaze. "Every military personnel is under my command, Doctor O'Meara, do you understand that? The chain of command will not be circumvented, certainly not by a civilian."

"But you–"

"Major Lorne," John resumed, "consider yourself warned. Next time there will be an official reprimand."

"Understood, sir." Evan breathed a little easier.

"As for you, Doctor O'Meara, we will have to discuss the mission protocols that are set in place for every mission. Such as being cleared by Doctor Beckett to resume active service, which you were not. I don't care if you discovered Noah's Ark. There are rules and regulations concerning the viability of every mission and whether or not it meets the criteria established to expend manpower, resources, and time."

"Excuse me, sir, but you needn't ride Moira so hard," Evan intervened. "She discovered–"

"Needn't I? You have no idea, major, how hard she rides me." His gaze took a salacious glint as he met her angered, abruptly flustered expression. "Major, dismissed. I want a full report on this ice planet in one hour."

"Sir!" Evan saluted, glanced at Moira and departed. The sound of his brisk footsteps echoed in the empty Jumper bay.

"Well? Nothing more to say?" John asked. The tightness in his chest had eased somewhat as he stood regarding her. "No Irish blarney to charm me?"

"I don't know what to say," she honestly admitted.

"Well, that's a first," he caustically noted. "This is serious, Moira. You can't countermand my orders, or blatantly collude with someone under my command to meet your own agenda."

"I didn't have an agenda, John! I had perfectly valid reasons for going to that planet, for investigating that horrible killing field! Since you refused to listen to me I knew that Weir would! And Evan...Evan is my team leader and would–"

"I don't want to hear it," he lifted a hand, silencing her. "I'm not kidding around, here, Moira. You can't ignore my command decisions, or find ways to go round them. Don't make those assumptions just because of our relationship. One thing has nothing to do with the other."

She sighed. "I know that! This had nothing to do with that! Tell me, colonel, did you refuse a perfectly viable scientific reason because of the slim evidence, or because of our relationship?"

It was his turn to frown. "Because of the slim, almost negligible evidence. Not because of us," he tersely informed her. "You need to separate the two, Moira, as I have. As I will continue to do. You are a civilian under my command. Got it?"

She frowned, considered. Stepped to him. Ran her hand slowly up the sleeve of his black shirt.

"I am sorry, John. You know how my enthusiasm gets the better of me sometimes. Leads me to rash, impulsive, passionate acts. I won't forget that I am under you. Under your command," she said the last words slowly, suggestively. She brushed her body against his as she passed him.

John couldn't help but smile as he turned to watch her leave, shedding the parka and folding it over one arm. Her ponytail swinging seductively back and forth in time to the swaying of her hips. He sighed, shook his head.

**************************************************************************

The conference room was quiet. Elizabeth looked at everyone in turn, then at the small, distorted bullet on the table. "Conclusions?" she invited.

Carson shuffled his papers, earning a smirk from Rodney as he ran his finger over his laptop. "Although the tissue samples are degraded, I can say with certainty these creatures, if you will, were once human. There are four chemicals in the human DNA code, known by the letters A, C, G, and T. Every human has these, as does every organism.. In both galaxies. From what I can tell these creatures have a strange chromosome mutation I have never seen. It may not sound like much but it is enough to produce a horrific mutation."

"Caused by the enzyme specifically?" Elizabeth asked, leaning forward in her chair.

"I believe so, yes. The enzyme contained in the plants from M1K436 is highly toxic. An almost pure, undiluted form of the chemicals. Furthermore I can postulate that these creatures may be one and the same as the ones encountered on M1K436, or a similar subspecies."

"The mass grave was concluded to be a killing field," Evan noted, "of recent origin. At least the top layers of skulls and skeletons. Many displayed wounds consistent with that of an automatic weapon. The bullet from a P90."

All eyes moved to the bullet.

"How can we be sure it was recent?" Elizabeth asked, frowning at the innocuous but deadly projectile.

"From the marks on the bones. Moira found several. I examined the leg bone she brought back and confirmed her conclusions," Carson stated, glancing at her. "The rapid tissue decomposition can be explained by the enzyme. It literally eats the victim from the inside until the victim can develop a mutation to defend itself." He looked at John, who uncomfortably touched his stomach, recalling the gut-wrenching pain.

"What about the signal?"

"Ah," Rodney punched buttons on his keypad. "The energy signature was very weak. I have analyzed the data Kavanaugh provided and I think I can pinpoint its exact location to within half a mile. The sporadic bursts of transmission either suggest an encrypted code, or more likely interference from the planet's dense stratosphere. Or a weakened power source. I'll know exactly when I get there." He confidently closed his laptop, waited.

"How did those creatures become slaughtered by modern weapons? Where did the P90 come from? That is my biggest concern," Elizabeth announced. "John?"

"It could have been Ford," Evan offered. "We lost no ordnance on Mio...on M1M316," he corrected smoothly, causing Moira to smile briefly.

"That is true. Pleistocene Park," John firmly stated his own name for the planet, ignoring Moira's amusement, "is clean. We took Bath's ordnance before we left. And all of ours."

"What about yours, colonel? On M1K436?"

Moira's question jolted John. He met her serious gaze. "As I recall I had it with me when Ford rushed me. I shot him several times but he brushed by me. The bullets hardly stopped or slowed him. He didn't take my weapon."

"Then you must have left it behind on the planet," she reasoned, "in the confusion." Challenging his assertions.

"I never leave ordnance behind," he firmly stated, meeting her gaze. Meeting her challenge with a narrowed gaze.

"Then how did your P90's bullet end up in the creature on MP3XY2?" she persisted.

"It wasn't mine," he argued. Gaze locked with hers.

"Major Lorne, do a quick check on all the ordnance logs, from both missions," Elizabeth ordered.

"Yes, ma'am. Sir." Evan stood, headed out quickly.

"The bigger question is the source of that energy signal," John mused, looking now at the bullet on the table. "On a supposedly deserted planet. Us."

"What?" Elizabeth asked, puzzled.

"Ford. When he was trying to convince me to join him, he said us. Not me. Us. So either there's more like Ford out there or he's somehow able to control those creatures. Moi...Doctor O'Meara," he corrected, "you said they were semi-sentient?" His gaze shot to her.

Moira would have smiled at his sudden correction, except for his frown. "Yes. At least one was. Presumably the others are as well."

"The enzyme bolsters the adrenal glands, violent urges, primal urges, as you know, colonel," Carson realized. "But without a human brain in control, who knows what kind of frenzy could result."

"We created this. We made the wholesale slaughter possible," Moira posited. "By leaving your gun on–"

"I did not leave my gun," he countered.

"There was no one else there, colonel, except Ford. And he only had a Wraith stunner. Don't you remember?"she insisted, nearly taunting him.

"Are you absolutely certain, John?" Elizabeth asked. "Your mission report was rather brief."

"I don't remember much," he said, meeting Elizabeth's gaze before eying Moira and her sudden alarm. He briefly smiled at her chagrin. "I remember some things...but I do remember that last fight with Ford because I was clear of the enzyme. Remember that, doctor? Clear of most of it. I did not leave my gun behind."

"Assuming you are right," Elizabeth stated, "then there is another unknown factor in all of this. Perhaps that signal is the key. I would hate to think that we somehow were responsible for the slaughter of any creatures, mutated or not."

"So we have a go?" John surmised. Reclined back in his chair.

"At your discretion, colonel. Do you want Major Lorne to lead–"

"No. My team will be tackling this. I won't be caught off-guard a second time." He stood as Evan returned, paused in the doorway. "Major, I want you to pick a contingent of marines to provide support. No Kavanaugh. We'll have McKay for any fancy stuff."

"Yes, sir," Evan stated, glancing at Moira who was staring at John.

"That's settled, then. Prep now. We leave in twenty minutes. Rodney, get your gear. I'll go inform Ronon. Major," he called, heading out of the room, "make sure Peterson is on your team. He's an excellent marksman."

Moira stood, followed the others out of the conference room. She passed them, catching up to John as he headed down the stairs. "John? John, wait!"

"Decision's final, Moira," he called over his shoulder, striding round the control room, down a hallway. He opened a transporter, stepped inside.

"John!" She ran after him, slid into the transporter before the doors shut. "What about Kavanaugh? He discovered the signal in the first place! You can't–"

John touched the screen displaying the grid of the city. "I can. Military commander, remember, Moira? Besides, he couldn't track it. I'm taking McKay. He is far more competent and less irritating. Well, slightly less irritating," he amended. Added briskly, "For a scientist."

He moved to the opening doors, stepped out and strode down the hallway. Moira followed. "So that's it, colonel? A full military force to take down whatever is out there, never mind any possible significant scientific discoveries? What about the enzyme? The creatures? The possible crisis we created? John! John, wait! John, John!" she called, nearly racing after his long, swift strides.

John stopped, turned abruptly. So abruptly Moira crashed into him, nearly fell but he caught her. Smoothly trapped her, pushed her gently against the wall. "If you're going to say my name that many times, Moira, we may as well have sex." Before she could reply he kissed her, pinning her wrists up against the wall on either side of her head. He pressed against her, lengthening the kiss, his mouth claiming hers, cajoling her lips to open. His tongue to glide.

Moira's murmurs were trapped in her throat as the kiss deepened, deepened. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, on the black fabric of his shirt. She shifted as her body reacted vividly, feeling his body reacting to hers.

John pulled back, smiled, brilliant green eyes sparkling. He stepped back, freeing her wrists. "Well? Are you going to stand there and berate me or are you going to get prepped?" he calmly asked, finding her indignant anger arousing. Amused at her astonished stare, her passionate reaction to him. Feeling his own but ignoring it.

"Prepped? Prepped for what? Sex?" she asked in a breathy voice, staring, disconcerted.

John laughed lightly, licked his lips. "I wish. No. The mission." He glanced at his watch. "Fifteen minutes, Moira. Although..." His gaze wandered over her. "We could take at least five or six to–"

"You...I am going too? On the mission?" she asked, recovering. Frowned. "Why didn't you say so, damn it?"

"You didn't give me a chance, Moira. Besides, it's more fun this way, isn't it?" He laughed at her ire. "Well, are you going to keep us here or shall we get ready? For the mission, I mean. Unless you are offering five or six minutes," he teased with a grin.

Moira laughed, unable to stay angry. She ran her hands up his chest, stepped close and kissed him. "Five minutes? I need at least ten to perform to the best of my abilities," she teased. Stepped round him. "Twelve minutes, John!" she called over her shoulder. Smiled at his answering laughter.

*************************************************************************

The two Jumpers flew through the even horizon, then in tandem as they surveyed the white and silver landscape beneath them. Swirls of snow drifted in the air as the ships hovered over the ground. Frosting the viewport.

"Remain cloaked. I don't want to be caught with my pants down this time." John glanced behind him as Moira audibly snickered. She smiled at him. He shook his head, grinned and winked at her before turning back to the comm. "It is Hoth..." he agreed, staring at the endless landscape of white. The tinted viewport brought up an array of readings at his command.

"Can anything actually live down there?" Rodney asked, zipping up his heavy red parka.

"There isn't enough life on this ice cube to fill a space cruiser," John quoted, glancing back at Moira.

She smiled. "Just look out for any meteorite strikes. It's going to be hard to spot approaching ships."

"What? What the heck are you two talking about?" Rodney asked, looking from one to the other.

John smiled, turned back. "You don't know? Do you have a reading on that signal yet? My sensors are all over the board," he complained.

"Hold on..." Rodney grumbled, adjusting settings.

"Actually, Doctor McKay, there could be an infinite variety of life on this planet. Just not on the surface. From the microbial, single-celled organisms to more complex life forms adapted to the frigid conditions."

"What? Microbes? As in bacteria?" Rodney exclaimed.

"You had to ask, Rodney," John chided.

"Here! It's very weak. No wonder Kavanaugh had a hard time following it. But I can trace it," Rodney asserted confidently. "It's very faint. From the caves...that way." He pointed ahead.

"Wait. Colonel Sheppard, aren't we going to first stop at the killing field?" Moira asked, leaning forward to rest her hand on the back of his seat. "We still need samples and specimens."

"Later. First the signal," he informed her.

"If you're not going to examine the bones why did you bring her?" Rodney asked.

"Because we'll need her expertise when we do," John countered. "Ronon, ever seen anything like this?"

"Snow? Lots of times," Ronon quipped, amused at the exchanges.

"No, the bones. To the left," John corrected, swerving the ship as he flew.

Below them the field extended, extended. Bones gleamed off-white against the pure white snow. Jagged points stuck out at awkward angles. Darker stains told of the recent bloodshed. Ice sparkled in the faint sunlight.

"No. Can't say that I have," Ronon answered.

"Got it!" Rodney announced. "It's very faint, intermittent bursts of energy...I'm surprised Kavanaugh was able to pick it up at all. Of course I can track it. I have to re-calibrate my superior equipment to detect the faintest electronic discharges of–"

"Where, Rodney?" John asked tiredly, losing patience.

"I suspect our own radio transmissions will be severely hampered by the caves and their natural density and...oh...the caves...the caves over there. The big one."

"Great. All right, Jumper two land by that ice cropping at three o'clock. Stay cloaked. Lorne, deploy your men in standard recon on the cave's ingress points. I don't want any surprises."

"Surprises?" Rodney asked as the vehicle flew to the caves. The gaping entrance loomed darkly like an open mouth against the whiteness. Icicles gleamed like jagged teeth. "Who do you think is sending the signal? The Genii? The Wraith?"

"Possibly to the first, thought I doubt it. As for the second... Moira?"

Jolted from her musing she replied, "Probably not. There is no steady food supply for the Wraith here. At least not visible to us yet."

"Could it have been those creatures?" asked Ronon.

She glanced at him. "I suppose it is theoretically possible. They were once human. We know they are at least semi-sentient. If they weren't forcibly brought through the 'Gate they could have traveled here themselves, or this could be their home world...which pre-supposes the existence of a limited cognitive ability unless they were not affected by the enzyme until–"

"Is that a yes?" Ronon asked, shaking his head.

"It's a possible yes," John answered. Sighed again.

The Jumper landed softly. Snow plumed around them, settling on the vehicle. John unbuckled, stood and grabbed his coat. Pulling it on he eyed his team. Rodney was zipping up a very heavy parka over his red one. Moira's coat was zipped. She slung her pack over her shoulder. "All right. Everyone sticks together. No one wanders around, or falls behind," he met Moira's gaze.

"Ronon, take the six." He eyed the Satedan who was only wearing a light-weight duster. "Is that all you have to wear out there?"

"Yes. What's wrong with it?"

John shrugged. "Nothing." He grabbed his P90, checked his side-arm. "Let's go. Wait," he halted them as Ronon opened the hatch, stood staring at the blinding whiteness. "McKay, do you still have any readings? Life-signs?"

Rodney fumbled with his scanners. He yanked off his thick mittens. "Wait...no life-signs except for us. The signal is...very weak. Below us. I told you these readings will be the more unreliable and sporadic the deeper we go." He yanked his hood over his head, adjusted his red scarf. "Did I mention I tend to catch colds easily? My lips get chapped and start to peel very–"

"McKay," John interrupted tiredly.

"Are we going some time today?" Moira impatiently asked, trying to step past Ronon but the bulky Satedan blocked the hatch's opening. "The quicker we finish this the sooner I can collect those specimens! Will someone get this walking carpet out of my way?"

John laughed with delight at the quote, as Moira pushed by Ronon who turned with a smile.

"Cute. I saw that movie," Ronon replied.

Moira smiled. "Sorry, Ronon. I couldn't resist,"she apologized, looking up at him.

"No reward is worth this," John stated, following her. "Whoa, your highness, hold up!" John caught her arm, stopping her. "Rodney?"

"This way." Rodney pushed past them, scanner held in front of his like a shield. He stomped down the ramp, then awkwardly into the snow. He took giant steps, but still the snow came up nearly to his knees. Moira followed in his footsteps with stumbling precision.

John smirked, turned back to Ronon. "Stay at the cave entrance. Keep it clear in case we need a hasty retreat." He turned, caught up to Moira, boots trampling in their footprints. "What can we expect here? Biologically speaking," he clarified.

She shrugged. "In the cave? More than likely this will be the place for life forms. This ecosystem could be similar to an Ice Age on Earth, unless it is the whole planet in which case there would be no life in the way that we recognize it. The atmosphere doesn't appear to be blocking all of the sun's UV radiation to prohibit–"

"So," he sighed, good-humored, "what can we expect here? Cave bears? Mammoths? Neanderthals?"

She turned to him, smiled. "I wish! Wouldn't that be marvelous, John! To find a whole thriving ecosystem of Ice Age megafauna we could study and...oh...you were joking. Somehow I doubt it. Something feels...off."

John smiled. "Off? Is that a paleontology term?"

"Sheppard! This is amazing!" Rodney called, standing at the cave entrance.

"Wow. Coming from you I have to see this," John quipped. He motioned for Moira to move towards Rodney, followed on her heels.

The ceiling rose dramatically, studded with ice formations. Gleaming stalactites hung down like enormous chandeliers. The floor was a maze of rocks, of ice stalagmites. Frozen waves of snow. Columns of ice glinted a pale, opalescent blue. Some were shattered. Crystal shards protruded at dangerous angles.

"John, these resemble the quartz crystal pillars on M1K436," Moira noted, staring round. She stepped to one, brushed snow off the solid, cold structure.

"Calcium carbonate. And ice," Rodney corrected. "Although most of these appear to be pure ice formations. Water that has frozen before ponding could occur. Ah...signal. Deeper in the cave."

"Lead on. Watch your step," John cautioned, looking back to see Ronon standing at the cave entrance, staring at the structures. "I'll radio you in twenty. Keep in touch with Lorne. If you see anything radio me."

"You got it." Ronon turned back to the white landscape. The cave at his back.

"The cave will block most radio signals," Rodney warned. "It will get worse the deeper we go."

"Then let's make this quick," John urged. He sighed again, circled round a large stalagmite. "Moira!" he barked. "What did I say about–"

"Look, John!" Moira was kneeling on the uneven ground, placing her gloved hand in a much larger footprint. "At least twice our size! Five toes, but too spread out to be human. Except there's a arch here indicating a bi-pedal locomotion that–"

"Great," he quipped, pulling her to her feet. "Keep sharp, Ronon!" he shouted back towards the cave entrance. "We may have some cave denizens after all! Big ones!" Keeping hold of her arm John led Moira to Rodney. "Let's go, Rodney!"

Rodney grumbled under his breath, led them on a twisting course. The illumination from their flashlights glittered off the snow and ice. Their breath plumed in vaporous clouds. Shadows danced, were gone. The air grew steadily colder. Sunlight filtered down from a few holes in the ceiling of the cave, showering a breathtaking cascade of rainbows on the refractive ice columns.

Moira paused, staring round. "It's so beautiful! Look!" She pointed towards several tunnels stretching further into the cave, further down into the depths. High above them a waterfall was

frozen in a still rush. Sheer ice sparkled an astonishing blue color. "The blue!"

"Blue ice," Rodney noted. "Wrongly attributed to the Rayleigh scattering. The ice is blue for the same reason water is blue. A result of an overtone of an OH molecular stretch in the water which absorbs light at the red end of the visible spectrum." He looked up at them. Moira and John were staring at him. "What? You asked."

"No, actually. We didn't," John corrected. "I know I'm going to regret this," he glanced at Moira, "but what is Rayleigh scattering?"

"Isn't that what makes the sky appear blue?" Moira realized.

Rodney smiled at her. "Yes, it is. Rayleigh scattering is the elastic scattering of light on other electromagnetic radiation by particles much smaller than the wavelength of the light. That's why the naked eye perceives the sky to be blue instead of the midnight black of space. The stratosphere is–"

"Rodney–" John tried to intercept the scientist.

"There's a very interesting new algorithm that–"

"Rodney! Signal!"

"Oh. Right." Rodney fiddled with his scanner. Flung his arm to the right. Proceeded.

John shook his head, followed Moira as she walked after Rodney.

"Down this tunnel. Careful," Rodney warned. Several ice extrusions stuck out of the passage's walls. Finally the tunnel expanded, emptying into another chamber. Although iced over it was relatively free of stalagmites. Several were shattered stumps, blackened.

"Hold up!" John stepped past Moira, past Rodney. He scanned the area, squatted to brush at the ice crystals on the ground. "I think we found the rebel base," he jested. "Someone's been here. Someone human. That's a boot print." He pointed. Stood. Hefted his P90.

"I've got the signal! Let me amplify the receiver." Short, staccato bursts faintly echoed. Faded. Repeated. Echoed. Faded.

"It couldn't be one of those creatures," Moira said, half in jest, half seriously. She glanced at John to see if he caught the Star Wars reference.

"It could be one of ours," John suggested with a quick grin.

Rodney moved ahead of them, oblivious. "No. It's not a form of communication we use, and it's not coming from above, but below. This signal's not used by Atlantis. The coding is all wrong."

A crackle of static buzzed, then fell silent.

"Well, it isn't friendly, whatever it is. We had better check it out. In case it has a self-destruct,"

John quoted with a raised brow, glancing at Moira.

She smiled. "An Imperial probe droid?"

"It's a good bet the Empire knows we're here."

"That's enough!" Rodney whirled, glaring at the smiling pair. "If I have to endure one more Star Wars reference I will leave both of you here to find this damn signal by yourselves! Of all the times to engage in a silly pop-cultural referencing contest!"

"It's not silly, Rodney, it's a code. A code that could prove useful since we are the only ones in this galaxy who understand it," Moira rationalized, but she couldn't keep a straight face.

"Moira's right. It's a encrypted way to convey immediate messages without the enemy realizing," John agreed, in complete sincerity.

Rodney shook his head. "Whatever. This way." He turned, led them across the chamber. "I would have thought Star Trek more appropriate."

"Star Trek?" Moira questioned, clearly conveying her disagreement.

"Yes! Going boldly where no man has gone before. Exploring new worlds, seeking new life, new civilizations...oh, forget it!" Rodney grumbled.

Moira exchanged a smile with John as they entered another tunnel. This one sloped sharply, reaching a smaller chamber. She slid on the icy surface, but John caught her arm, pulled her sharply against him, against his body as his boots grappled with the slippery snow. She caught his arms, regaining her footing. Met his gaze. "Thank you, colonel." She brushed her lips across his. "You feel cold, colonel."

"It is cold, Moira. And if you hadn't noticed we're on a mission," he gently reprimanded, gaze serious. Intense.

"Oh. Sorry, John." Her hands slid up his coat, up his chest. "I didn't mean to act inappropriately."

He smirked, but said sternly, "I'm serious, Moira. We do have to have that talk again?"

She sighed. "No, John. I guess not." She kissed him again, inviting his mouth as hers slowly opened, opened, but she drew back, smiled. "Sorry again, colonel. I guess you'll have to write me up, won't you?"

He smiled despite himself. "I shall, Moira. For insubordination. Now scoot!" He playfully pushed her away from him.

"Sheppard! You won't believe this!" Rodney's voice echoed off the walls.

"Rodney?" John hastened to the scientist, leading Moira behind him.

Rodney was running his bare hands over a black, upright device. A low, erratic pulse hummed. It emitted a soft glow. "It's Hoffan."

"Hoffan?" John echoed. "Are you sure?"

"It's identical to the one we found on their home world. And that didn't end too well."

"We may have found the surviving Hoffans and their new base. That would explain the ordnance. Not mine after all," he insisted to Moira.

"Sorry, colonel," she replied.

"Can you shut it down?"

"Of course. Give me–"

The radio crackled at John's shoulder. "Colonel...incoming...several...taking fire..." Then Ronon's voice. "Sheppard! Men on the...going to see..." Gunfire erupted.

"Major? Ronon?" John tapped the radio. Silence. "Damn it! Stay here! McKay, shut that thing down, now!" He glanced at Moira, then whirled. Ran back up the sloping tunnel.

"Doing it now," Rodney assured, flipping switches. The pitch of the signal whined, wheezed.

John ran, ducking through the passageways, weaving around the stalagmites, sprinting when he reached the cave's entrance. "Report! Report!" he shouted into his radio, into the air. Snow was falling heavily, creating a white out through which John could only glean distant, dark figures.

"Colonel," the radio crackled, "men down! Ten hostiles...mark six point seven...coming fast..."

John swung his weapon in a ready position, ran into a gun battle. He swerved, crouching behind an ice pillar as bullets, beams of light flew. Debris shattered. Snow plumed and filled the air. "Ronon!"

"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted, suddenly next to him. "They've got Lorne pinned down thirty yards! I'll go above and ambush!"

"Go, go! I'll cover!" John sprang to his feet, providing a line of fire as Ronon leapt up the cave's icy, craggy surface. He ran across its length, long coat flying in the wind. Soon he was lost to sight, swallowed by the snow. John sprayed bullets, hit two figures before crouching back into his covered position. "Lorne! Help from above!"

"Copy, sir!" Evan's voice came clearly over the radio. "We'll hold position and–" Abruptly his voice was cut off.

"Lorne? Lorne! Damn it! Peterson? Reynolds!" John heard only a burring static. He could see forms in the snow. Men diving. Ducking. Advancing. Bullets zinged past. A laser cut across the ice, it's green glow slicing a pillar. The top crashed to the ground. Shattered like glass. John cursed, ducked, darted to another pillar. Snow flew around him, blinding him.

*********************************************************************

The gunfire made Moira jump. She stood near Rodney, looking back at the sloping ground. She felt in her parka's pocket for the solidity of the 9mm handgun Evan had given her.

"There." The pulse stopped. Fell silent. Fell dark as the lights dimmed. Rodney smiled. "Simple, really. Just had to cut the repeating frequency to a subset of...oh oh."

"Oh oh?" Moira asked, looking back at him.

Rodney was flipping switches. A pulse had resumed, humming louder. A different sound that had a triple repeating pattern. Louder. Louder. "I can't shut it off! It's accelerating!"

"What?"

The ground began to shake, a strident vibration. Snow crystals flew from the walls. Icicles trembled above them. A few fell, shattering. "It's on a self-destruct," Rodney announced, voice oddly calm as the entire cave seemed to be quaking around them.

"Can you stop it?" Moira asked, glancing at the ceiling. Icicles trembled, creating shimmering clear waves of light.

"No. Run. Run!" Rodney encouraged, pushing her. They stumbled, dodging stalactites which were falling smoothly like darts. Shattering noisily. A chunk of ice hit Rodney and he fell.

"This way!" Moira helped him to his feet. They clambered up the slope, into the next chamber. Moira dodged another crashing ice column. The ground shook beneath her feet. She was thrown into the wall, smashing crystal protrusions.

"Go! Go!" Rodney pushed her out of the way as a stalactite descended. They tried to run, reached the other chamber as the violent shaking jarred snow and ice.

Moira ran but nearly crashed into John who was running towards them. "Back! Back! Go!" he shouted, waving them the other way, spinning to fire his P90. Snow and rock flew, splintered. Ice crashed like fallen glass.

"We can't!" she cried, stumbling backwards.

"The floor's collapsing!" Rodney shouted, reaching them. A crevasse opened beneath their feet.

They fell.


	3. Chapter 3

Allopatric Speciation3

Rodney sloshed down. By sheer chance his pack caught on a broken stalagmite, anchored him as he flailed near the edge of the crevasse. He grabbed Moira's ankles as she slid head first down the slippery sides of the narrow opening. Moira reached out. Her fingers slipped over John's shoulders to grab his pack. She nearly screamed as his weight yanked her violently. John dangled in the air, his grip still on his P90. His feet sought purchase on the sloping sides, but his boots kicked up snow, ice, rocks. Could not find any footing. He looked below him. The opening veered to the right, out of view.

Moira grunted with the pain, her arms stretched to their limit holding John's weight as he swung. She tried to dig her boots into the snow but only slid lower, gravity working against her. She showered Rodney with snow and ice. Rodney sputtered, pulling on her ankles, could get no leverage. Moira felt like she was being torn in two.

John looked up at her, legs swinging, boots sliding on the slope's surface. "Moira. Moira!"

She hadn't realized she had closed her eyes, putting all of her effort into keeping hold of John. She opened her eyes. "John. Hold on. Rodney!" she cried. "Pull! Pull!" Her voice was strained with the stress of weight, of sliding, of pain.

"I'm trying!" Rodney shouted, straining with the effort. He glanced behind him at his pack. Saw the strap beginning to tear at the weight. Every inch he pulled Moira up she abruptly slid two more down.

"Moira, let go," John said in a voice surprisingly calm.

She stared at him through a haze of tears, blinked to clear her vision of the two Johns swimming in her sight. "What? No! Rodney, pull!"

"I am!" Rodney grunted. Heard the threads starting to snap one by one.

John reached up, touched her white-knuckled grasp with his cold hand. Her muscles trembled with the increasing strain. "Moira, let go."

"No! No, John, I won't! I won't!" A sudden cramp made her wince, moan. "Rodney!"

"I'm trying! Hold on!" Rodney yanked with all of his strength, fingers digging into her socks, into her skin. His own awkward position and the ice giving him no purchase either. Moira felt herself being hauled inch by excruciating inch. A tremor rocked the cave. Rodney's hold slipped. Moira slid wildly back down, half-way over the edge of the crevasse as John swung back and forth like a pendulum. Rodney nearly lost his hold but gripped her ankles tightly.

"Moira, look at me. Let go. It's the only way," John urged. He used his gun to stop his motion, stabbing one side of the slope to stabilize his hanging form. "I'll just ride the tunnel down."

"No! It's too deep! Too far! John!" she pleaded, meeting his gaze.

"Let go," he repeated quietly, then shifted violently in the pack. Ignored the searing pain in his shoulders. Moira's sweaty, cramped fingers slipped. He pried them loose. Fell.

"John! John!" Moira called, aghast, abruptly relieved of the enormous strain. Suddenly hauled half-way up the slope.

"What happened?" Rodney demanded, finding the load much lighter. "Did he find a–"

"He let go."

"What? He let go?" Rodney exclaimed.

Another tremble shook them. Rodney nearly lost his hold as Moira slipped over the edge again. "Hold on! This strap's about to rip! One hand pull and I can get you out, I think!"

"Let go."

"What?" he demanded, barely catching her quiet voice.

Moira looked over her shoulder at him. Saw the strain, the precarious position of himself, the pack, the ice. "Let go! Or we'll both fall. I can direct my descent this way. I have to see if John's all right! If John..." She gulped in dread.

"Are you crazy? We don't know how deep the–"

"We can't just leave him!" she nearly screamed. "Let go! Then get out of here and get help! Please, Rodney! It's the only way!" she insisted.

Another snap of the threads convinced him. "Angle with the tunnel. Use the sides to slow your descent. I'll get both of you out of there!" He hesitated as she looked down the slope. Let go. Watched her slide, fall, slip away out of sight in silence. Rodney righted himself, scooting desperately away from the crevasse. The strap snapped, fell free of the stalagmite.

John flew down the chute, hit the wall hard, slid wildly to plunge once more. He fell onto his back, the pack breaking his fall under a crash of ice. Snow flew up around him like an ocean wave, coating him in white. His gun flew out of his hands, skittered across the ice for several yards.

He groaned as pain flared over his body, as his breath escaped, then resumed. He turned his head slowly. He found himself in a chamber, relatively free of deadly stalagmites. It sloped downwards to darker regions. A pale light source flickered in the distance. Before he could wonder at this heard a strange noise, like a skate on ice. He looked back up the chute.

Moira flew out of the tunnel, seemed to hover a moment in mid-air. Then landed on top of him with a breathless explosion of air. John groaned again, as her weight hit him, the wind knocked out of him yet again. "John! John, are you all right?" she gasped, half lifting up to touch his face with her cold, bare hand.

"I was..." he laconically stated. "How--"

"Rodney let go," she explained. A wave of relief washed over her, seeing him.

"He let go?"

"Yes. I told him to let go. Are you sure you're all right, John?"

"Just peachy," he grimaced.

"Oh! Sorry!" She moved, paused. "I thought you liked this position," she teased. As he smiled she scrambled off him, moved to the chute's opening. She stared up at the whiteness. "Rodney!

Rodney!"

"John...okay...you..." Rodney's voice sounded faint, distorted.

"Yes! John's okay! John's okay!" Moira shouted as loudly as she could, cupping her hands around her mouth. "What? Rodney, what? Rod–"

John clamped his bare hand over her mouth, standing behind her. "Ssh!" he whispered in her ear. "Listen!"

His breath quickly chilled against her cheek. Moira listened. Silence. Then faint voices. Sounding all around them, then nothing. Then closer. She caught his hand, lowered it. "Ours?"

she whispered.

"Probably." He turned, intending to grab his weapon. Found it pointed at him by a unknown man, wrapped in a woolen coat. "Or not." He raised his empty hands, smiled. "Hi."

************************************************************************

Rodney swore, precariously close to the edge of the crevasse. "Moira! Did you say John was okay?" he shouted. "I'll go get help! I'll get you out!" He scrambled to his feet, glancing round at the icy devastation around him. Silence. Stillness. The lack of any noise was nervewracking.

Rodney ascended to the slope, crossed the chamber and entered the larger cavern. He could see the cave entrance. The waves of snow falling, falling. "Oh, that's just perfect," he grumbled. Flexing aching arms he trudged around the chamber, zigzagging round fallen stalagmites and stalactites. Stopped short upon discovering a man's dead body strewn on the ice. Crimson blood seeped into the snow. Bullets riddled the flesh.

Distastefully he stepped over it, snatched the 9mm handgun from his pocket. Proceeded until he found another body. Another. "Geez, Sheppard," he grumbled, impressed and appalled. Reaching the cave's entrance he paused, peering round an ice formation.

The snow was falling heavily. He could only see a few feet in front of him. Squinting he made out several figures. Clutching his gun he crept out of the cave, advancing inch by inch, seeking cover where he could. Knowing the bright red parka he wore was as subtle as a shout he quickly doffed it, left it lying in the snow.

Ronon groaned. His leap from the tp of the cave had taken down three men, but he had landed wrong and had heard the bone snap. Ignoring the pain he pulled himself to cover, only to find an exotic-looking double-barreled shotgun in his face. He looked up at the man holding it. Stared at the odd deformities of his face, his skull. Odd bumps and protrusions expanded the skin. The weapon clicked. The twin barrels heated with a golden energy beam.

A shot rang. The man spun, touched the side of his face in astonishment. Blood spurted. Ronon lunged for the weapon while bringing up his own. He shot repeatedly, spinning on his back, pivoting with his good leg. Yanked the weapon out of the other man's grasp. The man fell, blood spurting in a crimson wave against the snow.

Ronon groaned, caught his breath. He thrust himself upright, seated against a rock. Held both guns, ready to fire.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! It's me! Rodney! Rodney McKay!" A bundled figure emerged from the snowfall, at a ridiculous run hampered by the debris.

"McKay?" Ronon stared. Shocked at who had rescued him.

"Yeah...did I hit him? Wow! Eww!" Rodney looked away from the body, stared at Ronon's twisted leg. The awkward angle. "Ouch."

"Yes. Where's Sheppard?"

"He fell through a crevasse in the cave. He's all right, I think. With Moira. I've got to get help."

He tapped his radio. "Major? Major Lorne, where are you?"

"Doctor McKay?" Aaron's voice crackled on the radio. "Lorne's out. So is Reynolds. We need assistance ASAP! Where's Colonel Sheppard?" The young lieutenant sounded frightened.

"Long story! We're coming to you!" Rodney looked at his teammate. "Can you stand?"

"Yes." Ronon groaned, cursed as Rodney helped him to his feet. "This way! We've got to get Sheppard!"

"I know! I know! First things first!" Rodney agreed.

**********************************************************************

"Hi," John repeated, stepping slightly to the left, keeping Moira behind him. "We didn't mean to drop in on you like this. If you could just show us the way out–"

"Move!" The man beckoned with the gun. He saw John's sidearm, glared. Ripped it off him. "Go!" He shot the gun at the wall. Ice flew.

John cursed silently. "All right, all right, just don't shoot. We're coming." He slowly walked forward, towards a second man who was picking up the P90. "Crap," he muttered.

Moira followed, her feet slipping on the uneven ice as it sloped downwards to a chamber. She glanced at the two men, at John, at the partially cleared area. Remnants of civilization appeared. A wooden table. Screens and charts. A cache of weapons across the chamber. She purposefully slid, gasped. John whirled, caught her. "Endor...generator bunker," she whispered, glancing down at her right side.

John smiled. He slid his hand under her parka, felt the solid weight of the handgun. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful.

"Move!" The man ordered, prodding John in the back.

"I...I can't find my footing," Moira complained, as John slid the gun out of the pocket. Grasped the handle firmly in his fingers. Flicked off the safety.

"Down," he said quietly. Then he pulled it free, whirling and shot. The first man fell without a sound, shot straight through the heart. Moira ducked low. John crouched in front of her as the P90 sprayed bullets where he had been standing a moment ago. He fired, flinging himself onto his stomach. Kept firing as the man went down, crashing into the icy wall. Snow plumed. John rolled, sprang to his feet, held out his hand. "Moira!"

She jumped up to her feet, took his hand. "Impressive," she commented a she led her into a run across the chamber. Stopped short as the click of a weapon halted him.

"Down! On your knees! Hands behind your backs! Drop the gun!" a man growled. Two more appeared from a tunnel recessed in the wall.

John dropped the gun, scowling. He moved to his knees, hands raised. "Moira!" he hissed.

Moira was staring at the men. At their odd deformities. The bumps on their faces, the protrusions of bone from their skulls. The weird growths. One arm ended in an oversized claw on one of them. She sank to her knees, glanced at John. Clasped her hands together behind her head, mimicking him.

"Okay, don't get antsy," John soothed. "Hey!" he protested as his pack was torn from him, then his coat. He looked at Moira, saw the same being done to her. Except the man was running his hands along her sides, across her breasts. John knocked into him, pushing him aside. "Don't get any ideas!"

A gun hit his back. He fell with the blow, but righted himself, glanced at the men. Stared at their mutations. "Enzyme?" he asked under his breath.

"Yes. I think so,"she whispered. She swallowed nervously, upset at the man's rude handling. At the men staring at her. She scooted imperceptibly closer to John.

"I don't believe it!" John cursed under his breath at the familiar voice. "You survived! How in the hell did you survive?" Aiden Ford sauntered into view, grinning. "I thought you were a dead man for sure!"

"Hope you didn't take any bets," John quipped. "I don't die that easily. Is this your new pad? Personally I prefer more color, and more heat."

"How the hell did you do it?" Aiden's unnerving gaze swung to Moira. His solid black eye reflecting the icy surroundings. "What did you do to him?"

"What's going on here, Ford?" John asked, diverting him. "Since when are you in league with the Hoffans?"

"You killed those creatures on the ice!" Moira accused. "Why did you slaughter–"

Aiden ignored her. "We have the same goals. Elimination of the Wraith. By whatever means necessary." He squatted to be eye to eye with his former superior officer. "That's what it means to be a soldier! How could you forget that, Sheppard? To achieve victory at all costs! And what we found here..." He stood, his gaze falling onto Moira again. He smiled. "I'll show the scientist. Bring her."

Two men yanked Moira to her feet, pulled her to the table. John moved but the click of weapons aimed at him made him pause. "Ford, don't do anything stupid."

Aiden smiled. "Leverage, sir. Look!"

Moira was shoved into the table. A crude microscope stood, containing slides. She shook free of the hands restraining her. Peered into the lens. Turned the dilapidated knob to focus. Viewed the slides one by one, becoming interested despite the situation. Increasingly alarmed as she read the faded labels on the slides.

"Do you know what you are seeing?" Aiden asked, pride ringing in his voice. "The future of the ultimate soldier! The end of the Wraith! Once we work out the side effects we will be unstoppable. Hey...you could help us with that."

"No." She met his arrogant gaze. The one solid black eye unblinking. "What have you done? How did you alter it?"

"Moira, what is it?" John asked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the slope of the ground. The cache of weapons. His fingers itched to grab a weapon, any weapon.

"The, the enzyme. You've changed it. The Hoffan serum...they should cancel each other out but this...this..."

"Those creatures held the most potent version of the enzyme. Even more toxic than the plants, but it was altered by their very chemistry even as it changed them! Those who survive are twice as strong! I don't know why. Fifty percent of us can tolerate the altered levels, can turn into the ultimate soldier."

"You killed off half of your fighting force? Good tactics, lieutenant," John remarked.

"Shut up! My men are stronger–"

"You idiot! Your men are mutating into the very creatures you are killing!"

Aiden backslapped Moira. She fell against the table, knocked over the microscope. It slammed to the ground, shattering the slides, the glass lenses. "You bitch!"

"Ford!" John growled. He savagely elbowed one man in the gut, ducked and rammed into the other but was slammed by a fist. The blow rammed his side. He staggered back to his knees. Froze, seeing Aiden holding a knife to Moira's throat.

Aiden smiled. "As I said, leverage. We don't kill those things. Not for awhile. I will show you." He dragged Moira towards the tunnel.

"Ford! What do you want?" John demanded, trying to rise, but was shoved down again. He cursed, feeling a gun prodding his back. He could only watch as his former lieutenant pulled Moira down the tunnel. Out of sight. He strained to listen.

"See?" Aiden's smug tone was appalling. Not as appalling as the sight greeting Moira. Chained to the wall the small chamber were four of the creatures. Tubes dripped from their arms, their legs, their chests to fill containers sloshing with reddish-orange liquid. All were gaunt, skeletal. Vaguely human. Horrifying.

"My God...you...you are harvesting them..." she stammered, forgetting her stinging face. The tiny cut on her lower lip dribbled blood.

"Yes, like we used to harvest the Wraith," Aiden explained, as if it was nothing unusual. "These things are different. The enzyme saturates every pore. It interacts in a fascinating way with the Hoffan serum. I've never seen anything like it. Nor have our own doctors."

She whirled, eyes wide. "Don't you realize what you are doing? These creatures were once human!"

"No. They are some kind of alien species."

"No! How stupid can you be?" she argued, outraged. "These are mutated human beings! The same as you and me! Mutated by the enzyme! Can't you see the same thing is happening to you and your men? How can you keep them chained up like this? You are no better than the Wraith!"

Aiden glowered, rage visible in the tight contortions of his face. He savagely slapped her. Moira nearly spun with the blow, crying out as she fell to the rocky ground. "Really? Is that what you think? That these things are humans?"

"Ford!" John shouted, hearing the raised voices, Moira's cry of pain. He struggled, fought against the men who were holding him.

Moira cried out again as Aiden hauled her to her feet, dug his fingers into her arms. "You want to see how human these things are? Then you will!" He dragged her to an abrupt opening. The sloping tunnel fell away dramatically. Below she heard strange noises. Shuffling. Growling.

"No...no..." she protested, realizing his intent. She struggled against his grip, his implacable stance. "No! No...John! John!" Her words ended in a scream as she was pushed over the edge.

Fell.

"Moira! Moira!" John shouted, fought his way to his feet despite the iron grasp of his captors. Something big slammed into his back, his shoulder. His head as he fell to the ground, enveloped in pain. Was swallowed by darkness.

Moira fell, grasping at air. Fell. Legs and arms pin-wheeling. Abruptly stopped as she hit the ground, a huge bank of snow pluming around her. She lost her breath as a sharp object sliced up her side, through her sweater. She gasped, staring up at the impossibly high shaft. Over to where the pain flared. Her fingers probed, found a scratch. Blood. A gouged stalagmite. The ground was littered with them.

She groaned, sat up slowly. Stared in horror, silencing a scream. Two men were bloodily impaled on other icy stalagmites. Crimson ice pooled. One body was partially devoured. Flesh and bone hung in tatters. Moira looked away from the sight, disgusted, pressing her hand to her side. The chamber opened beyond her. Weird blue light emanated.

*************************************************************************

Rodney staggered under Ronon's weight, finally dropped the big man near the visible Jumper. He breathed deeply, exhausted. Surveyed the carnage. Bodies were strewn. Blood on snow. "Lorne!" he gasped.

Aaron ran to him. "On board, sir! He's out cold, a concussion! We're four down, two dead.

Ronon?" He glanced at the Satedan, alarmed at the sight.

"Broken leg. Help him on board," Rodney gasped between wheezes. "We've got to return to Atlantis to get–"

Gunfire. Rodney whirled as Ronon staggered to his feet, swayed wildly like a tree about to fall.

Was shoved into the Jumper. The hatch was slammed shut. "McKay!" he bellowed in shock as the scientist on the other side of the hatch.

"Cloak it! Cloak...oh shit." Rodney ducked down with Aaron, who was firing at the amorphous shapes in the falling snow. Black shadows darting, flitting from place to place.

"Grenade!" Aaron hollered. A second later an explosion tore threw the snow and ice, sending huge plumes of both into the sky. For a moment it appeared to be snowing upwards, not downwards. Aaron hit the Jumper, flying into it, sank to the ground. Rodney flew forwards, landed in a pile of snow that nearly engulfed him. He scrambled out of the mini avalanche but was pinned as guns were aiming down at him. He held up his hands. Empty.

***********************************************************************

John's head ached, but not as much as his right shoulder. It throbbed, pulsing down his spine. Cold ice chilled his face as he moved his hand, his fingers. His mind slowly cleared from the murky depths of unconsciousness. Voices replayed. Moira. No, no, John, John, a scream. He jerked awake, sat, but regretted it as the cave spun. He closed his eyes, opened them. The cave stopped spinning.

"John! John!" Rodney fell to his knees beside him. "Thank God! When I saw you I was afraid you were...that is, I was worried you were–"

Rodney's stuttering face came into view. Blurred. Cleared. "Rodney?" John asked. Voice a creaking slur. He worked his jaw, tasted blood. "Moira?"

"I don't know." Rodney glanced around the cavern. "I didn't see her when they brought me here." He looked down at his bound wrists and ankles. Noticed John's were equally bound. "Ronon and the others are aboard the Jumper, but Josephes had a fall when–"

"Sheppard, you're awake." Aiden strolled into view. Smiled. "We managed to find McKay but damn if he didn't shoot one of my men and hid some of yours. He'll make a fine soldier yet, don't you think?"

"McKay?" John asked, disbelief evident. He raised a brow.

"Me?" Rodney asked, equally skeptical.

"Moira...where is she? What did you do to her?" John asked slowly.

"Oh. Sorry about that, sir. I lost my temper. She's got quite a mouth on her. How can you tolerate it? I got pissed so I let her see for herself what those things are. If she wasn't killed by the fall or by being impaled those things will drain her life. Then she'll see how inhuman they are..." He smiled.

"As inhuman as you?" Rodney asked, appalled.

Every muscle in John's aching body clenched. "I will kill you," he promised. "If you had any leverage you just lost it."

"I know," Aiden sighed, "but there's a chance she survived. Guess we'll never know. At least I shut her up at last. McKay," he eyed the physicist, "you will appreciate this. What we've done to the serum and the enzyme and–"

"You mutated bastard I will kill you," John repeated, if only to distract himself from the worst images in his mind prompted by Moira's possible fates.

"We'll see. Get some rest. We have tests to do. I really want to know how you survived the enzyme. First we need to take care of your buddies topside."

Rodney waited until Aiden had left. His men following. "He's really gone over the edge, hasn't he? It's the enzyme...altered somehow, right? And what's with those men's faces? And the creatures, how do they tie into this?" He looked at his team leader. John seemed far away, turned inward. Moira's last words, her scream echoing in his head over and over. "John? Don't believe what's he says about Moira. She's okay. She's a scientist, right? She'll find a way."

John glanced at him, then to the cavern. To the tunnel where she had been taken. For several moments he said nothing, clamping down on the emotions. The guilt. The loss. Pushing it all to one side to focus on the situation now. Then, in a quiet voice, "What were you saying about Ronon?"

"Oh. He's with Lorne and his men, holed up in the Jumper. They should be on their way to Atlantis...but they didn't cloak the ship when I told them to..." Rodney's voice fell away into the oppressive silence. "I'm sure she's fine, John..." he repeated, never having seen his friend so close to devastation.

************************************************************************

Shadows. They moved. They flitted. Moira shakily stood, leaned against a tall, icy stalagmite. She pressed her hand to her side. Shivers coursed along her body. A trickle of blood marked her unsteady passage around the deadly obstacles. Weird bluish light glimmered on the icy walls. She headed for it, boots crunching with each step.

She paused, breathing heavily. The air was cold, thin. The ground sloped to a winding river. It was a pale, icy blue, mostly frozen but sluggishly moving. She stared across it. Noises emanated. Forms moved, flitting among the ice and rocks. Indistinct. "Hello? Hello?" she called. "I won't hurt you. I'm not here to hurt you," she lowered her voice. "I just need a way out of here." For some reason she could not stop talking around her chattering teeth. "Ford says you are things, creatures. But I know you are not. You were once fully sentient beings. Human, like me. I know what he's doing to you. We'll stop him. But I need your help."

*************************************************************************

"We're not going anywhere," Ronon growled. He hauled himself up to peer out the hatch's window. A blanket of white falling snow met his gaze. Effectively blocked his sight. He glanced at wounded men sprawled in the Jumper. To Evan's still unconscious form. "You! Matthews? Give me my gun. The big one," he clarified.

The nervous marine limped to obey, handed Ronon his large blaster. "Are they still out there?"

"I can't tell. But Josephes is. They took McKay. We need a plan before they come back here, because they will. And we are expendable. Try to radio Josephes."

The marine nodded, tapped his radio at his shoulder. "Josephes? Josephes, what's your twenty? Copy?"

Aaron's voice came over the instrument. "Copy! Near the right drive pod, hidden. Orders?"

Ronon smiled. "We're going to set a trap."

**************************************************************************

"Listen."

Rodney looked round the chamber, shifting again as the cold, hard ground was freezing his rear. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," John confirmed. "No gunfire. No voices. Nothing."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." John's gaze darted round. He scooted towards the table, towards the shattered glass littering the ground. Moira. He forced the thought aside. "Here." He handed Rodney a piece of glass.

"Ow!" Rodney complained, as the sharp edges cut his skin.

"Cut me loose, and be quick about it!"

Rodney grimaced at the glass cutting his fingers, but sawed at John's bindings. "I trust you have a plan?"

"Not yet. Hurry, hurry," John urged. Could hear footsteps. The echo made it impossible to tell from which direction or how close, how far.

"There! You–"

"Back!" John scooted to his original position, curled up on his side and surreptitiously cut his ankles free. His fingers bled but he ignored the stinging pain.

"John," Rodney quietly warned.

John froze, kept hold of the glass, turning the jagged edge.

"You." The man pointed. "Scientist. With me. Now."

Rodney tried not to stare at the man's misshapen head. The protrusions on his skull. Failed. "Uh...a little problem here." He held up his bound wrists, showed his bound ankles.

"Don't care. Jump or I'll drag you."

"Well, isn't that civilized," Rodney fumed. He held up his tied wrists. "The least you could do is to pull me my feet. And I do mean that would be the very least thing you could do." The man strode to him, leaned to grab hold of the bindings.

John rolled, thrust the glass up into the man's jugular. Blood spurted upwards in a crimson fountain as the man gurgled, eyes bulging. He fell to the ground.

Rodney stared, wide-eyed as John squatted, pulled a large knife from the dying man's belt. He sliced Rodney's bonds. Darted low to the weapons piled in a corner. Grabbed several guns. He tossed one towards Rodney who caught it, still staring.

"Well? Come on!"

"You...you..." Rodney stared at the man, still gurgling blood as it gushed from his wound. Eyes still bulging in shock. Mouth working but no sounds erupted. Only blood. A scarlet river stained the pristine ice. "You killed him."

"Yes. Would you rather it was the other way around? Come on!" He dragged Rodney across the chamber, pulled him down behind a stalagmite. "Can you get the scanner to work down here?"

"The what? Maybe...its properties might make it less susceptible to the cave's density and–"

"Just do it!" John fingered his radio. "We've got to risk this. Major? Major Lorne, copy?"

"We're too deep. It won't work," Rodney reminded, fiddling with the Ancient scanner.

John shoved the radio away in disgust. "Fine. We're moving out, then. Follow me. Stay low. We're bound to run into these guys–" Gunfire interrupted his words. Above them. "Sooner rather than later," he finished. "Go!"

************************************************************************

Ronon waited. He lay sprawled on the open hatchway's ramp. Snow was blowing over his legs. His gun was hidden beneath his coat, a rifle near his other hand. A marine crouched behind the wall of the ship, while another sat against the back, slumped as if dead. Aaron crouched in the shadow of the Jumper.

"Movement. Two klicks," Aaron whispered into his radio.

"Acknowledged," Ronon stated. Closed his eyes to slits. Tensed. Saw the dark forms against the snow, mere specks of movement. Closer. Closer. They weren't approaching cautiously but moving slowly, weapons poised. Closer. His fingers tightened on his weapons. Closer. Feet touched the ramp. Blocked the blinding snowfall. Closer. A kick to his foot. Closer.

"How many does he want ali–" one man asked, turning his gaze for only a second to his companions. A second was all Ronon needed.

"Now!" he growled. He fired, sitting up smoothly as the marines and Josephes simultaneously discharged their guns. The men fell back, instantly killed. Others returned fire. Ronon rolled, flattened as the marines did the same. As Aaron crouched lower behind the ship.

*************************************************************************

John ran across the cave's central chamber, dodging stalagmites, leaping over rocks. He emerged into a blinding white landscape. Heading for the sound of gunfire, of shouts, of screams. He grabbed his radio. "Major! Major Lorne!"

"Colonel? Thank God! We're under attack from–"stammered an unknown voice.

"Shoot to kill! Copy? Take down Ford but leave him to me! Copy?"

"Copy, sir! Shoot to kill!"

Rodney caught up to John as he paused, scanning the battle. He joined him, gasping for breath. "You...I've never heard you give that order except when the Genii invaded."

"It's kill or be killed, Rodney. These aren't ordinary men. Go round to the left. Find a position and hold. Got it?" Gunfire splattered. A shout.

"Yes. Got it."

"Good. Go!" John charged ahead, swinging his P90. He fired, killing the first man. Another veered into view, but was blasted by a super-charged weapon. John swerved out of the way as the man fell, a gaping hole in his chest. "Positions point six!" John shouted into the radio. "Hold the line! I'm at the door!" Bullets flew around him. Ice pinged against his legs. Forms fell, wavered in and out of visibility.

"Copy, sir! Jumper's secure! More bogeys on the three!" Aaron replied. He had the ship at his back as he fired.

"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted.

John whirled, sensing a motion behind him. Unbelievably the man with the hole in his chest was rising, preparing to fire a gun. "What now? Zombies?" he complained. He flipped the exotic rifle to his hands, fired. Two energy blasts shot and blew the man's head off in a bloody arc.

"Colonel Sheppard! Cease fire! Friendlies!" Aaron shouted, waving his arms. He ran to him as Rodney darted down from his concealed rock. "Colonel! All enemies down!"

John turned to view the young lieutenant. "Ford?"

"No, sir. No sign of him. All hostiles down! We have five injured, two killed. Major Lorne's knocked out, sir. Ronon's leg is broken."

"Broken?" John asked, surprised. "Come on!" He led them to the Jumper, past inert bodies.

"Ronon?"

Ronon grinned, groaned, fell back against the ramp. "About time, Sheppard. What took you so long?"

John briefly smiled at the phrase, used teasingly by Moira. But a weight of emotion crashed upon him. "Josephes! Get the injured to Atlantis. And the dead. That includes you, Ronon. And all non-combatants. You, Rodney." John pushed the scientist into the Jumper.

"But you...I mean...if you find her body you..." Rodney froze, the words hanging in the cold air as if he had shouted them.

"Sir! We can't fly the ship. No one conscious or not severely wounded has the gene," Aaron informed his commander.

John stared, gripped his gun tightly. Torn. He couldn't leave her again. Wounded. Stranded. With even less of a chance to survive than on that first mission. If she was even alive. But he couldn't allow his men to die either. To be stranded here for hours when they needed medical attention.

"Go." Rodney thrust the bio-scanner into his free hand. "I'll pilot the ship, then return."

"No...I have to do this...I have to..." John hesitated. "Are you sure? You've not had a lot of experience at flying this–"

"Go. I'll be fine. How difficult can it be? I mean, you do it all the time," Rodney weakly jested. "Josephes can talk me through it, and maybe Lorne will wake up by then."

"Rodney...thanks. Radio Atlantis if you need help, and get back here ASAP. And head directly into the event horizon at a low speed to–"

"Just go, will you? Before I come to my senses!" Rodney snapped.

John nodded. Spun and ran into the snowstorm. Back towards the caves.


	4. Chapter 4

Allopatric Speciation4

Moira hadn't realized she was seated until the cold numbed her muscles. She stood, touched her side. The blood had slowed. Stopped. She hugged herself as shivers abruptly escalated. She wasn't alone. Creatures began to surround her. Skeletal, deformed nightmares. Some were recognizably human. They were mute, staring at her with enormous eyes. "Hi," she said. A few drew back as if alarm at the sound of her voice. "It's all right. I won't hurt you. I'm so sorry for what was done to you. I'm so sorry..."

Cautiously she edged down the slope, to the frozen river. Chunks of ice moved nearly imperceptibly, the only solid footing along its path. The blue light danced, luring her. Promising an exit, an escape. Sunlight. Warmth. She could feel the creatures at her back, soft shuffling sounds, a few grunts. She looked over her shoulder. One had crouched down to lick her blood off the ice.

*************************************************************************

"Moira!" John skidded to a halt at the tunnel entrance, catching his breath. He plunged ahead. The bio-scanner fluctuated. One signal. Twenty. One human. Ten others. Nothing. He paused upon entering the chamber. Stared at the chained creatures. The dripping tubes. The containers full of viscous liquid. Realized the source of her outrage, the argument with Aiden.

He ran towards the chute, pausing to look down. All the way down until it veered. "Moira!" he yelled. His voice echoed off the walls, off the ice. Whiteness gleamed. It was all he could see. The air felt colder, wafting up to him. Without hesitation he plunged down the tunnel.

***************************************************************************

Moira stepped onto a chunk of ice. She wobbled, caught herself. The creatures shifted, lining the icy slope. An echo. Her name. A voice. She stared round. "John..." she muttered. Turned. "It's all right," she soothed the agitated creatures. Some snarled. Showing long teeth. "I...I heard it too, I think..." One creature stepped onto the frozen river. It advanced towards her chunk of ice but the semi-frozen slush gave under its weight. It was plunged into a thick, watery mix of ice and rocks. It howled. Set the others to howling.

Moira balanced on the large chunk of ice, watching as the creature submerged. Surfaced. Submerged. Surfaced. Its bulging eyes staring up at her as the river began to ice over its inert form. Trapped forever in the cold, cold grave.

***********************************************************************

John landed hard, barely missing a stalagmite. He stood, grimaced seeing the impaled bodies. The half-eaten face of one man. Entrails slung along the stalagmite like a grisly ribbon. But he spied the blood on the ground. Glinting on the edge of a smaller protrusion. "Moira!" he called. He checked the bio-scanner. He wove through the stalagmites as the readings wavered. Cursing he shoved the useless equipment into his pocket. Followed the blood trail, relieved she was alive, had not been impaled.

Hearing the unearthly howl of a creature, then the chorus he tightened his grip on his gun. Shivers coursed down his back. The colder air enfolded him in its embrace. He moved faster as the sounds echoed all around him. Some of the ice shook with the vibrations. He looked up to see a few stalactites trembling.

************************************************************************

Moira jumped to another chunk of ice, scrambled to her feet as the creatures howled. As if blaming her. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she called. Watched the creatures following along, hooting at her. Gesticulating wildly among themselves.

"John?" She looked again, disorientated by the echoes. Waves of sound bouncing from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling. "No, no, he's a friend. He won't hurt you. He's looking for me," she whispered, relief flooding her. The chunk of ice was moving gradually. Following the course of the river. Moira stared as the creatures gathered. Began throwing rocks, pieces of fallen ice across the river. Then a more concerted effort as they gathered larger stones to pile. One by one. To build a bridge. "John!" she shouted, amazed at their ingenuity. And alarmed.

*************************************************************************

John paused. He thought he had heard his name. "Moira!" he called. The blood was turning to tiny droplets, absorbed increasingly by the snow and ice. Not a serious injury he reassured himself. He scanned the chamber, eyes darting everywhere. Feet slipping on the frozen ground. Blue ice shone, wavered. A weird humming filled his ears. "Moira! Moira, I'm coming!"

Darting round more towering ice columns he saw her. Relief so immense it almost staggered him was replaced by alarm. She was perched precariously on a chunk of ice, in the middle of a frozen but moving river. Surrounded by a barrier of creatures on one side. Creatures that had almost completed a makeshift bridge and were beginning to cross it. To reach her. "Moira! Get down!" he shouted. He ran, firing his P90 in a deadly arc.

Moira whirled as gunshots flew, splintering the crystals, the ice, the snow. The creatures. All at once they hissed, growled. "No! John, don't shoot! John!" she cried, waved her arms frantically. Nearly falling in her relief at seeing him. Overwhelming emotion but she shoved it aside, trying to get his attention.

John pulled up short, halting his weapon in surprise. The creatures shifted in motion, suddenly silent. Suddenly running towards him. He braced himself but they ran around him, jumped over him, fleeing like a herd of deer in panic. The ground rumbled. Snow fell from the ceiling of the cave. A brief shower that blinded him for a few moments. A few rocks fell. Where the stalactites trembled.

"John!" Moira called, sliding on the ice. The chunk wobbled as the river abruptly surged. Water moving through the ice, pushed by a tremendous force. The ground shifted. Ice cracked and she fell backwards.

"No, no, Moira, no!" John ran towards where she had been only a second ago. His feet darted across the sinking bridge, then he leapt sideways to land on the listing chunk of ice where she sprawled, sliding towards the water. "Moira!" He flattened his body on top of hers as rocks fell. Icy stalactites plunged around them, splashing into the water. Waves of liquid and ice spewed around them, onto them.

"Ow!" she complained, moving. Trying to move under his weight. "John!"

"Moira," he said, lifting his head. "Are you all right? I thought I...I thought I..." He touched her cut lip, her bruised cheek.

"I'm fine. Can you move?"

"Oh, sorry. I thought you liked this position," he teased. She smiled, laughed weakly. He kissed her, ran his hand up her arm. "You're so cold."

"Not so cold now," she replied, wincing. He yanked up her sweater. "John?"

He touched her skin. A cut marred her side below her ribs. "Just a scratch," he reassured himself, brushed his lips against hers again. "Moira, I–"

"I don't believe this."

John moved to his feet, pulling Moira up behind him. He held the P90, shone the light across the widening river. Onto Aiden who stood on the opposite icy slope. John's finger slid across the trigger. Caressed it.

"Must I always find you entwined with her, Sheppard?" Aiden laughed. "I guess I should have let my men have their way with–"

"I'm going to kill you now, Ford," John simply stated, no emotion in his voice. About to pull the trigger. Moira's hand touched his arm.

"John."

Her soft voice halted him. He looked past Aiden. Saw the creatures returning. They were angry. Muttering. Growling. Some held chunks of ice. As weapons.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Sheppard?" taunted Aiden, oblivious to the threat behind him. "I'm right here. Are you going to murder me in cold blood? A colonel murdering a lieutenant who technically is still under his command? You got your girl back. No hard feelings, right?"

"I really should kill him, anyway. Just on principle," John argued, body relaxing. Finger easing slightly on the trigger. "He's like a damn cockroach."

"Just desserts," Moira reproved, clasping John's arm as the chunk of ice floated awkwardly. The ground shifted again. Part of the slope lifted, fell. Waters surged, shoving ice out of the way.

Aiden turned, saw the creatures. He laughed. Waved them back as if they were children. They scattered. Re-grouped. Aiden shouted. He threw a broken stalagmite at them. Several howled, falling back from him. Moira's hold tightened on John's arm. The creatures rushed all at once. Aiden went down in a sea of mutated bodies. "Sheppard! Help me! Sheppard!"

John coldly watched the flailing arms and legs of his former lieutenant. Relaxed his hold on the P90. Rocks flew. The creatures growled. A scream. Blood spurted, but from Aiden or one of the creatures he could not tell.

"Sheppard! Shoot me! Sheppard, please! Shoot me! Shoot them!" Aiden begged, clambering above the creatures again. One arm hung at an unnatural angle. Scratches marred both cheeks.

"No." John's voice was chilling. He lowered the gun. Refusing the mercy shot. Deriving some savage satisfaction as Aiden was submerged once more, yelling furiously. John felt Moira behind him, hiding her face against his shoulder, unable to watch. Her grip tightened almost painfully on his arm, but he didn't say a word. Until the noises dropped into nothing except forlorn echoes. Until the creatures moved as one, dragging something or someone with them.

"It's over. I think."

The ground shook again. Moira lifted her head. John's arm encircled her waist, drawing her against him. Another rumble. The creatures fled. They spilled up the slope, into the cavern's recesses. John thought he caught a glimpse of Aiden, but whether he was alive or dead he could not tell.

"Was...was that..." Moira stammered.

"Maybe. With Ford you can never be sure. What are they running from, besides the quakes? I hate to ask."

Moira turned, eyed the opposite bank. It was farther away from them, unreachable. Churning ice and water a powerful barrier. "Do you really want to find out?"

"No." He shone his light down the river's course. It veered round a corner. He heard a sloshing, almost deafening noise. Ice crashed like thunder. Rocks split. They were picking up speed, momentum. He freed her, took her hand, scanning the icy bank. "Moira, see that outcropping? Over there?" He pointed.

"What? We can't jump! We can follow the river!"

"No. It's a waterfall!" he nearly shouted to be heard over the din. "On three! One! Two! Three!"

They leapt off the chunk of ice as it turned the corner, a lazy spiral that propelled them across the watery expanse. They fell onto the slope, slid down towards the water. John scrambled to his feet, pulled Moira up and climbed the slope to firmer ground.

"See?" He pointed.

Moira turned, out of breath. Saw the chunk of ice fall over the edge. Water sprayed. Ice flew. Shimmers of clear light breathed over the falling water.

"Down!" John pushed her to her knees, huddled over her. Ice showered them. Cold, cold water. He stood slowly, brushed ice off himself, shivered as the bitter water penetrated his clothes, his skin. "Here. We need to get higher. Sunlight!" There was a small opening high in the ceiling.

"We can't reach that!" Moira complained, rising. A violent shiver rocked her body, as she climbed up the slope to the outcropping. John was behind her. "That's it." She stopped. The ground rose sharply, glinting with ice. The cave shook again. A low growl filled the air.

"Stand here." He gently moved her aside, studied the slope, ice, rocks. The angle of the hole. Weak sunlight filtered down. Pallid yellow rays promising warmth, but so far away.

Moira hugged herself, staring across the river to the opposite side of the bank. A giant shadow flickered on the ice, on the snow. "John...I don't think the creatures were fleeing the waterfall or the quake," she warned.

He looked at her, then across the river. "Do you see anything?"

"No."

"Listen. I think I know a way to contact McKay when he returns." He watched the shadows. The bluish light glinted off the stalagmites.

"How? By shouting? The radio frequencies won't work this far down."

"Unless I can boost the signal," he argued.

"How? By shouting?" she repeated, still staring across the river. Entranced by the blue light on the ice. By the shadow moving in ponderous strides.

He smiled, stepped to her side. "Give me your bracelet."

"What?" She stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Your bracelet. It's pure silver, right? Not 92.5 sterling but pure silver?" He held out his hand expectantly.

"Yes...how did you know?" She studied the bracelet on her wrist. The intricate Celtic knots along the length of it.

"By its color. It's a brilliant white metallic luster, untainted by a copper alloy." She stared in surprise. "Look, I'll buy you another one."

"How? Have you seen any fine jewelry stores in the Pegasus galaxy?"

"Cute." He unclasped the bracelet, fingers moving against the skin on her wrist. He took it.

"What are you going to do with it? That thing over there is probably not a werewolf."

"No. It's more like the Thing from another world." He glanced at the shadows, saw no solid form. Yet. He met her gaze. "Here. Take this." He placed the P90 in her hands. "Shoot anything that moves. Except for me."

"John–"

"How come every mission with you always ends up being a Grade-B horror movie?" he quipped.

She shrugged. "Luck of the draw?"

"All right." He pulled the bio-scanner from his pocket, pulled the radio from his shoulder. "I am going to boost the electronic signals of the transmission field by jerry-rigging the bio-scanner's power source to the radio. Using your pure silver bracelet as a conductor." He sat down on the snow, pulled a small knife from his TAC vest to pry open the radio. Wires protruded. "Pure silver has the highest electrical and thermal conductivity of all metals. Also the longest contact resistance. Silver-wrapped hardware has the least loss of quality in the signal." He pried the bio-scanner part with an audible pop. It flashed colors. Tiny crystals pulsed red, green, blue. John looked up to see Moira's rapt, ardent gaze glued to him. Admiration shone from her brown eyes.

He smiled.

"When did you become Mr. Science? Discovery channel?"

He laughed. "No. Military applications of applied sciences. And that's Colonel Science to you, doctor," he chided. Bent his head down to his work. "I'm going to wrap your bracelet around these wires, these crystals, connecting the two. Theoretically this should boost the power past the cave's interference."

Moira nodded, trusting in his expertise. Fascinated by his ingenuity, his serious expression. The hair falling across his forehead. His fingers deftly working. The quick glimpse of his tongue as he licked his lips, concentrating.

"All done." He met her gaze, smiled. "Did you see anything?"

"What?"

"The shadows?" he prompted, standing.

"Oh." She turned, embarrassed. Stared across the river. "No. Nothing yet. Maybe it went away."

"Maybe." He glanced at his watch, calculating. "We've been down here, what? Two hours?"

"Sounds right."

"Give McKay an hour to fly home...unload our medical emergencies. Explain to Elizabeth. Fly back." He tapped his watch. "Maybe another hour? I don't want to waste what could be our only shot at this." He took the gun from her, scanning the shadows again.

"So we wait," he surmised tiredly. Sat on the snow, cross-legged, staring at the bluish glow beyond the river. Ice sparkled. The silence was heavy, except for the deafening roar of the waterfall. "At least, at least the ground stopped shaking." Her voice trembled as her body shook

"True." John sat behind her. He set the gun to one side within easy reach. Set the radio on top of that. He bent his knees, opened his legs. "Here." He slid his arms around her, drew her against him. "Sit here." He guided her, his arms and legs enfolding her. He began to rub her arms. "Warmth. We have to stay awake. Alert."

"Of course." She settled against him. Shivers coursed through her. She shifted. "Um...John, that is your sidearm, right?"

He laughed against her hair. "For now we'll say it is, Moira."

"Cute." She sighed. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Over there? The colors, I mean."

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her once more. Feeling the cold skin, the wet, clinging clothes. "Yes. In its way."

"I know, I'm sorry, after everything I shouldn't have said that!"

"It is beautiful," he mused, his mouth a whisper in her ear, a caress on her cheek. She caught his cold hands in hers, caressing. "Talk to me, Moira," he urged. "Tell me about the last Ice Age."

"Are you serious? You want me to talk about that?" she mocked.

"Yes," he encouraged, running his lips over her cheek, down her throat. "Talk to me."

"That is funny,"she noted, but continued. "The last Ice Age on Earth ended about ten thousand years ago. The glaciers covered about a third of the land mass. If this planet is enduring a similar Ice Age it could be due to the sun's energy output, the axis of the planet, the orbit of the planet, an atmosphere blocked by dust or meteorite impact. This cave could be a classic glacial cave, created hundreds of years ago."

"I don't think so," he replied, trying to keep alert himself. "A glacial cave is formed on ice, not bedrock. It could be the result of erosion from a cliff face near the sea but I bet it was formed by a marine glacier, over centuries of erosion and grinding of the rocks. Infrequent melting created the several chambers, the crevasses, even the river. Its surface water collected in ponds before freezing. So it can slowly flow in response to gravity, pressure, even partial melting."

"Wow," Moira commented. "I guess it is Colonel Science." She shifted against him, rested her head against his shoulder. She stared at the blue ice, rubbing his hands in hers.

"Yeah, just don't tell anybody. You'll find I'm full of surprises," he teased. Grew serious. "What do you think happened to Ford? I mean, to make him the way he is now. And the deformities on those men? What you saw in those slides?"

"Yes. You mean the enzyme? It must be the enzyme...but a more potent saturation in the cells, in the DNA, altered by the men's own chemical composition. And somehow reacting with the Hoffan serum but not in the way originally intended. There must be a third component to meld the two...I don't know. I'm no biochemist. As for Ford...he's not the man you once knew, John. He'll never be that man again. The chemical alterations in his brain are too severe. I'm sorry."

"I know." He brooded. "Any attempt at detox would kill him, wouldn't it? If it would even work. If the enzyme has penetrated his very tissues, his genetic composition..." He paused, hesitated. "I always thought...I always thought I could save him. Bring him back, you know? I always thought that one day...I'd find him again...be able to convince him to return to Atlantis and recover. Renege the loss, the mistakes I'd made yet again. Another one lost due to my negligence...yet again."

"It wasn't your fault, John. What happened to Ford. His escape," she soothed. Considered. "Even a shepherd can't help but lose one of his flock to voracious predators."

"True...a shepherd and his flock. This Sheppard always seems to lose more than one of his flock. No matter where he's stationed or the nature of the predators. It's my job to keep track of all of them, Moira. All of them! To bring them home when they stray..."

"It wasn't your fault, John," she soothed, sensing she'd hit a nerve, however inadvertently.

"It was. It was my responsibility. Every loss is my responsibility, my failure. Going all the way back to..." He stopped, shoving down the past, the pain, the guilt. "If I could just save just one...just reverse my mistakes just once, you know? Like with Ford...but I guess I can't."

"You saved me," she reminded softly, hearing echoes of deeper misery, of darker emotions in his halting voice. Recognizing the similar emotions she had buried in herself.

"Yes. I did. I couldn't leave you again, Moira," he admitted quietly. Forced his past aside, burying it again. Wondered why he had said so much. Blamed the cold. "Moira?" He nudged her. "Don't fall asleep."

"What?" She nestled, shifted. "I am a little warmer, John. But so tired...so tired..." Tempted to ask about those other losses but refraining. Unable to mention her own haunted past.

"I know." He shook her. "You have to stay awake, Moira! Help is coming. As soon as I can I will send a call to McKay." The cold was bothering him now, causing his muscle aches to oddly rescind. To make his eyes feel heavy. He knew it was a false comfort. A false sense of peace.

She sighed, moving again, stared up at the impossibly high opening above them. "The light is fading, John. If we have to spend the night here we won't make it out alive."

"We'll make it, Moira. McKay is coming," he assured, but realized she was right. He moved, scanning the cavern. "We could search for another way out, another tunnel, but I prefer our chances here. We can't risk ending up in a dead-end."

"I think we're in one now," she glumly remarked. Winced, moved his arms away from her. Touched her side. "It's bleeding again. The warmth unfroze it."

"Ironic," he commented. He took his knife, cut along his sleeve.

"John?" she asked in alarm.

He ripped half the material away, folded it lengthwise. "Here." He lifted her sweater, pressed the material to her side. She gasped at the coldness, the wetness. "Hold it, here." She held it in place as he began to unlace a boot.

"No! Use mine," she offered, scooting around to face him. "You'll need yours tight when you climb the slope."

"Right. Good thinking." He moved, unlaced one of her boots. He drew the long string out, wrapped it around her waist, over the sleeve. Tied it to keep it in place. "Am I still surprising you, doctor?"

"All the time, colonel," she agreed.

************************************************************************

"Incoming! McKay's IDC...the ship is...wobbling?" Radek Zelenka looked up at Elizabeth in puzzlement.

"Lower the shield! This can't be good," she realized, frowning. "Medical teams to the 'Gate room, stat!"

After the KAWOOSH the wormhole rippled. Empty. Until a Jumper careened through it. Almost flying into the control room but jerking to a stop. Then landing with a loud thud, at an odd angle. The wormhole disengaged.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth gasped, seeing the very white face of Rodney at the controls. She ran down the stairs as a flood of marines and medical personnel entered the 'Gate room.

The hatch smoothly opened. "We need help here! Now!" Ronon bellowed.

"Gurney! Gurney!" Carson shouted, racing ahead of everyone. He shook his head. "What the bloody hell happened, son?"

"We ran into trouble. But that's not the problem now," Rodney answered, still in the pilot's seat. He swung around as the marines were helped off the ship, then Ronon. "We need to go back. Now!"

"Where's John and Moira?" Elizabeth asked.

"That's why I have to go back! They're stuck in an ice cave, hundreds of feet below the surface! With those malformed creatures! Carson, come on! They'll more as likely freeze to death if we don't get a move on it!"

"Rodney, slow down! Explain. How did–"

"There's no time, Elizabeth! I'm sorry, but there's no time! The ice cave is highly unstable! Ronon can fill you in on the details, about the creatures and the Hoffans and Ford and–"

"Hoffans? Ford?" she exclaimed, exchanging a shocked glance with Carson.

"Yes! We have to go, now!" Rodney insisted, jumping out of the seat. He rushed towards the opening where Elizabeth and Carson stood, staring in concern, alarm.

"Rodney!" Elizabeth grabbed his arm as he swayed, trying to pull Carson onto the ship. "We will! I promise you. Carson, get what you need, now. Rodney, relax. I'll give you a pilot, a whole squad of marines if you–"

"No, no, I can manage. We'll need a pilot to fly the second Jumper back. It's still there. And a squad of marines, just to be safe," he noted, suddenly agreeing to her suggestions when a second before he had refused them. He took a deep breath, exhaled it. "And I could really, really use a sandwich! A hot sandwich!"

*****************************************************************************

"That's it! I can't! I can't!" Moira stopped pacing, jumping, scrambling on the ice. She sank to her knees, shivering uncontrollably. They had been keeping active, but there wasn't much room on the outcropping to pace, to move at all. And any more physical motions led to the ice crunching under their boots, shrinking the shelf. Large bits had fallen away into the river. Over the waterfall. Tears sprang to her eyes as she hugged herself. "I'm sorry! I'm so tired, so cold!"

John knelt next to her, pulled her against him, hugging her. "I know, I know! But we have to keep moving, Moira! We can't give up yet." He glanced up. The light still shone, but was getting weaker as the sun descended.

"I'm not giving up!"she flared. "I just want to rest," she clarified, wrapping her arms around him. "John...we may not make it," she whispered.

"We'll make it. I promise, we'll make it," he stammered into her ear. His muscles had been screaming at every step, but it had kept him awake. Now that he had stopped moving the cold seeped relentlessly into his bones. "I told you I didn't like the cold, O'Meara," he complained.

She laughed weakly. "Sorry, Sheppard."

The radio crackled. Both scrambled to their feet. "Here!" John thrust the P90 into her hands. "In case! Stay alert!" He grabbed the jerry-rigged radio, ascended the slope.

Moira watched him precariously climb. His boots slipped, found purchase on the rocks. Snow and ice crashed around her. Hearing a growl she spun round, blinked to focus. Across the river a shadow grew. Blocked the bluish light. And grew.

John pressed buttons, holding the radio high towards the opening, towards the faint ray of light. He swayed, nearly falling. "This is Sheppard!" He coughed, cleared his raspy throat. "This is Sheppard! Anyone copy? McKay?"

"John...John, thank God!" came the scientist's voice, clear as crystal. "I've been scanning on several frequencies to find–"

"Hone in on this signal! There's an opening wide enough for a rope! McKay, do you copy?"

"John..got you! Hold on! Keep the signal transmitting!"

John glanced down. Moira was standing near the edge of the outcropping, staring across it. John followed her line of sight. Saw a very large shadow blocking the bluish light. Heard a low, ominous growling. "Moira! Get back from there!"

She glanced at him. "I can't see what it is," she calmly explained.

"I don't care what it is! Get up here!" he shouted. "The gun!"

But she moved closer to the icy slope's edge, peering into the encroaching darkness. "Oh! Good thinking, John!" She lifted the P90 awkwardly. John breathed a sigh of relief. Until she shone the light across the river. A form slunk into view, chasing its own shadow. It was large. Twice the size of a man. Covered in dirty white fur. Long arms swung at its sides. Hands ended in curled claws. It snapped stalagmites as if they were twigs. "John...I think I found what the creatures were fleeing."

"Good guess, Moira, now get back!" John glanced at the hole. "McKay! Hurry it up! We've got company!" His foot slipped but he caught himself. Barely. "Moira! Stop gawking at the Abominable Snowman and get your pert little ass back here!"

"My what?" she asked, glancing back at him in annoyance. She stumbled back from the edge as if waking out of a fog. "It does look like a Yeti, doesn't it? But it's not a true primate. It's been altered too." She turned back to shine the light on the creature's face. Its eyes reflected red. Canines protruded from its mouth. Saliva dripped. Moira lowered the light, gasping. Backing up she hit the icy wall, feet sliding. "John..."

"Damn it! McKay, hurry! Copy?" he shouted. Cursed as the radio sparked, died. He dropped it, skidded down the slope, nearly crashing into Moira who stood motionless. He took the gun from her cold hands, aimed at the creature. Its long strides were headed for the river. The ground shook, another quake sending sprays of snow and ice upon them.

"John, don't shoot. It can't possibly reach us over the–" The ground quaked. John stumbled, sliding down the slope into the water. But Moira grabbed him, hauled him back to her. "Not so fast, flyboy!" She held onto him, bracing herself as he regained his footing.

"What? McKay's coming! We're almost out of here, and I'll be damned if we're going to be some Wampa's lunch!" He raised the gun again as the creature roared. Snow shivered from the walls. The ground shook violently. "Get up the slope, Moira! Now!"

"John! John! Moira!"

The voice sounded close, echoing down the shaft. John lowered the weapon, glanced upwards. A light shone down the hole. A flashlight. Nearly blinding him. "McKay! Go, up the slope, now!" He pushed Moira, followed on her heels.

Moira struggled, sliding her loose boot making her trip, but John's hand was on her back, kept her going. She looked up to see the hole being widened. Snow fell on her face. "Rodney!" she shouted. "Hurry!"

"The harness is on the way!" yelled a Scottish voice.

"Carson!" Moira nearly wept with relief. A blue rope was lowered. She watched it descend, half-turned. "John? John!"

He was looking back at the creature. Which was pacing the ground near the river. It leapt upon a chunk of ice. Not close enough to reach their outcropping. Not yet as it slowly drifted towards them. He met her gaze. "You first."

"No! I won't let you die because of me! Not again!" she insisted, puzzling him, because he was pretty sure he hadn't died recently. "You go!" Her eyes widened looking past him to the crouching, slathering creature. The intelligence in its baleful gaze.

"Don't argue! Go!" he ordered.

"There are two harnesses so you both can go!" Carson shouted.

"What about the weight?" John shouted, grabbing the rope as he spied the twin harnesses.

"I've rigged the Jumper! It will haul both of you simultaneously!" Rodney shouted. Peered down at them. "Today, John?" he quipped.

"Nice one, Rodney. All right." John slung his gun over his shoulder. "Get in your harness, Moira. Today." He slipped into his.

Moira did the same, watching how he secured it around his waist. John caught her as she slipped. He slid his arms around her. "You can't–"

"Hold onto me," he advised. "McKay!"

Moira grabbed onto John as her feet were lifted from the ground. The creature howled. She looked down to it, fascinated despite the danger. Slowly they twirled, rose higher. Higher. "I wonder if it could be another, another, another species, a mutation," she stammered, teeth chattering.

John glanced at it. "That's a horrible thought."

Moira met his gaze as they twirled, rose. Twirled. Rose. "I'm so cold...so cold, John."

"So am I, Moira, but we're almost home." He smiled. "How long before we reach the surface? Five minutes? Maybe six?" He kissed her, mouth moving on hers in a slow, searching motion.

Moira smiled, drew back. "Isn't that inappropriate behavior, colonel? We are on a mission, and you were very strict about that."

"Was I? Well, I'll make an exception in this case. Dangling in mid-air doesn't count." He kissed her again, kept kissing her as they twirled, rose. Twirled, rose.

John looked up as the pallid sunlight hit his head, his face. He grunted as they were hauled onto the surface. Quickly he undid the harness, freed Moira and himself, helped her to her feet. "Quickly, Carson! I think she's suffering from hypothermia! And she's been injured on her side, under the sweater!"

"Right, so are you, John. Moira, here we go! Poor lass, you're turning blue!" Carson guided her towards the Jumper.

John had never seen a more welcome sight. But he frowned. "What did you do to my ship, Rodney?"

"What? Oh...that. A few scratches. A few dents. And oh, the 'Gate room floor needs to be re-tiled in a few...anyway, let's go!"

"Colonel Sheppard, orders?" a marine smartly saluted.

"We're done here, Wilkins. Fly Jumper Two back to Atlantis. I'll follow in this one. Jumper One," he clarified needlessly, shivering suddenly.

"Yes, sir!" John ignored him, circled the ship, shaking his head. "A little damage? What's this? I just repaired that section!" he complained.

"It's nothing! Are you coming or were you planning to freeze to death despite my rescue?" Rodney snapped. He grabbed John's arm and hauled him into the vehicle. He closed the hatch.

"All right, let's take a look at you, shall we?" Carson was saying to Moira as he guided her into a seat. "You have an injury?" He touched Moira's cold cheek.

"No. I'm fine."

"A cut on her right side," John informed, taking the jacket Rodney offered and slipping it on.

"A scratch," she amended, moving her sweater. She pulled aside the makeshift bandage.

"Ah. That will keep for now. Sit here. We've got to get you warm. Both of you," he added, glancing at John who was standing, staring at her. Carson flung a heavy blue blanket around her. "Drink this. It's warm cocoa with a drop of brandy. You need it. As soon as we get home you're going to have a hot shower, a hot stew, and go straight to bed."

Moira wrapped her hands around the cup, sipped delicately. "Ah...Carson, you are my hero," she gushed, as the warm, chocolate liquid thawed her throat.

John smiled, satisfied. He headed for the controls. "Rodney, get ready to dial the 'Gate."

"Colonel, here. It's against my better judgement but Rodney said you needed it after today."

John turned. Carson held out a bottle of beer. John smiled, took it. Opened it. "Carson, you are my hero too." Everyone laughed. He took three long swallows. "Ahh...throw in a hot shower and a juicy burger and I'll be a happy man."

"When we get home, John," Carson assured, smiling. He took the seat next to Moira as Rodnye slid into the co-pilot's chair.

John slipped into the pilot's chair. Looked around. "I wish these came with drink holders," he grumbled. Sighed. Set the beer between his thighs. Didn't even feel the cold of the bottle.

"I guess the Ancients didn't think of everything," Rodney quipped. "Oh oh. I'm detecting a massive energy reading. On the other side of the cave."

John was powering the systems. "Define massive."

"Really, really big. Shouldn't we be flying now?" The ground began to shake.

"Oh..right. Let's get off this ice cube." John raised the Jumper slowly.

"Was that an earthquake?" Carson asked.

"Of a sort. The energy is increasing. Building to a...it's another Hoffan self-destruct. Go faster, John! Faster!" Rodney urged, watching the spike on his readings growing higher, higher.

"His reactions may be hampered by the hypothermia," Carson explained.

"What?" Rodney swivelled to glare at the doctor. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Going faster," John replied calmly. Despite the aches in his body it felt good to be in the Jumper. In a chair. He had a pleasant buzz from the beer. Felt warmer as the shivers decreased along his body. He took another long swallow of the beverage.

"Sheppard!" Rodney snatched the now half-empty bottle from him.

"We're fine, Rodney," John stated.

Just as the vehicle flew over the cave the whole right side of the edifice erupted. Snow and rock, ice and crystals spewed into the air. Right into the flight path of the Jumper. The ship was rocked violently, swerved and shook.

"Shielding," John said, almost as an afterthought as the ship climbed higher, higher. Flew faster, faster. He swerved to avoid an enormous boulder that had been shoved airborne. "Give me back my beer," he complained. Reached for it.

Rodney slapped his hand aside. "No!"

"Dial the 'Gate, Rodney!" John snapped. His hands felt slippery on the controls. He fought through the fog in his mind. It felt so good to be sitting down. To have a comfortable, warm jacket. The ship started to drop as his concentration wavered.

"John! Look out!" Rodney shouted.

A massive ice column was heading straight for the viewport. Sunlight glinted off its deadly edge, creating a blinding rainbow pattern that obscured its depth and speed. Flung like a javelin it flew towards the ship with uncanny accuracy.


	5. Chapter 5

Allopatric Speciation5

John watched the hurling missile with an almost nonchalant detachment, admiring the rainbow pattern of colors as they came closer, closer. The ice column whirling in speedy attack.

"John! Look out!" Moira called, dropping her empty cup. It shattered to pieces on the floor.

Jolted from his fog John blinked. "Oh crap." The ice smashed against the shields, jolting the vehicle wildly. John fought the controls, ducking under the worst of it, sharpening his mind to guide the ship to a safer position. "Thanks, Moira."

"Moira? I warned you first!" Rodney snapped. He turned back to Carson. "Can't you give him something? A stimulant?"

"No, I can't. Not in his condition," Carson refused.

"Death by icicle. That's a new one," John noted. He leveled the flight path, rose slowly again.

"Sheppard! We have to get to the 'Gate. Where the hell are you going?" Rodney demanded.

"Moira," Carson pointed at John, inclined his head towards him. She shrugged, uncertain. He gestured her forward, insisting silently.

"Going home, Rodney. Now give me my damn beer."

"No! No, you're not! You better let me fly this–"

"Like hell. Dial the 'Gate!" John insisted.

Moira stood, ran her hand over John's shoulder. She leaned close. "You're going the wrong way, flyboy."

"Am I? Are you sure, Moira?" John asked, puzzled.

"Yes. Let's go home, John."

"Oh. That's a new one. Thank you, Moira." Deftly he turned the ship around, flew the other way. Picked up speed.

"Stay there, Moira," Carson advised. "Keep him focused. Rodney, dial the 'Gate. Atlantis will be wondering what happened to us."

"Dialing," Rodney agreed. "You remember how to do this, John? Fly straight into the shimmering pool of light," he acerbically stated.

John frowned. "Yeah, that's what I was going to do. Without damaging my ship."

"Good. Straight through. In the center...but not too fast. Slow down!" Rodney shouted. "You need to slow down, damn it!" The ship was picking up speed, zooming through the sky.

"John," Moira said, caressing his shoulder, "you don't have to impress me."

He smiled, slowed the ship. "Oh? Watch this."

"John!" Rodney gulped, but the ship flew calmly into the event horizon.

**************************************************************************

Moira sat on the bed in the infirmary, swinging her legs back and forth. The hot shower had cured her continuous shivers. Clean, warm clothes had relaxed aching muscles. She shifted, touched her side where a smaller, clean bandage covered her injury. Her lower lip was sore. Scratches marred one cheek.

Carson returned to her. "Evan's fine. Asleep. All right? Apart from superficial injuries you are fine as well. Moira?"

Tears shone in her brown eyes. "Sorry..." She wiped them quickly, embarrassed.

"It's all right, love. You've been through a lot. Terrible things," Carson sympathized.

"It's not that. I mean, it is that...those poor creatures...they were once men!" She sighed. "I can't stop...I can't stop thinking of the, of the ice chute. John. John...let go. He just let go, Carson! Falling! He let go!"

"It's over, Moira," Carson soothed, patting her hand, "and John is fine. You're fine."

"I know. I...I thought I lost him. I thought...I thought I caused another death and I can't go through that again!" Her voice wavered, falling to a whisper. "He was gone in that one moment. That terrible, silent moment. He just looked at me, Carson. Said to let go. So calmly, as if it was nothing. I couldn't...I couldn't!" She couldn't stop the flow of words, her rush of emotions. "How could he have done that? Pried my fingers loose to fall! How could he let go? It was like ripping my heart out of my chest! I could have killed him, Carson, I could have lost him, I never should have gotten involved, I never should! How could he let go?"

Carson patted her shoulder. "To save you, love," he stated. "To save you. He's fine, Moira. As are you. You need to stop thinking about it, about whatever else it brought back to your mind," he realized, curious, but not pushing. Not prying.

"I can't. I can't get it out of my head!"

"You will. Here." He handed her a box of tissues. "If you ever need to talk you know I'm here. The memory won't be as vivid, in time. Your body and mind are reacting to the stress. Now, calm yourself. Let's go get something to eat. Hmm?"

She wiped her eyes, blew her nose. Bottled up the emotions. "Carson...thank you."

************************************************************************

John rubbed his eyes, suppressed a yawn. He rubbed absently as his stubbled, sore jaw. Met Rodney's gaze. "What?"

"Didn't you shower?"

"Yes. I didn't shave. Sore jaw." He recalled the hot water pummeling his aching muscles. He could have stayed in there for hours. Relaxed, in clean, warm clothes. Nearly dropped onto his bed but instead made his weary way to the conference room. He pushed the data screen aside.

"That's all, I think."

"John!" Elizabeth scolded, entering the room. "What are you doing here? You are officially off-duty!"

"I know. I had to check on my men. Greaves and Hannon will recover. Jameson will be out for a month. Morris is bed-ridden for a week. Lorne should be fine in a few days."

"I know all that. Carson apprised me."

"The only question left hanging is Ford. I wouldn't rule him out of any equation," John noted dourly.

"I thought you said those things got him," Rodney recalled.

"They did...but Ford did not go down without a fight." He remembered the lieutenant's voice, pleading to be shot. His own cold refusal.

"All right, John. That is enough," Elizabeth decided, hands on hips. "Go and get something to eat, then get some sleep. That is a direct order."

"What about Ronon?"

"His leg is broken but he'll recover. We can go over all of this tomorrow," Elizabeth stated, shaking her head at his obstinacy. "I know Carson cleared you but the reports can wait."

"I wanted to get it out of the way," John explained. "But yeah, I am hungry."

"Me too. Let's go–"

"You?" John raised a brow.

Rodney shrugged. "Yes, me. Half a sandwich does not constitute a proper meal. Not after my heroic and, dare I say it, brilliant rescue?"

"You had half a sandwich before coming back for us?" John asked, incredulous.

"While I was waiting for Carson, yes. You know when I am stressed I need to eat. Let's go!"

Rodney stood, headed for the door.

"Okay. The beer's giving me a buzz so I–"

"Beer? What beer? Rodney! You gave him beer?" Elizabeth exclaimed.

The men exchanged a guilty look. "Talk to Carson, Elizabeth. He's the doctor. Let's go, John," Rodney urged, ushering his friend out of the room.

"Look, Rodney...I just wanted to...that is...I just wanted to say...thanks." John awkwardly said as they strolled down the hallway to the cafeteria. "For, you know. Back on the planet."

Rodney glanced at him, puzzled for a moment. "Huh? For...oh! Of course. You would have done the same for me. Wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"I mean, if I found myself in a similar situation...having to save someone...like that, I mean, like if Katie was...I mean...I mean I'm glad Moira's all right," he stammered, uncertain.

"Me too," John agreed. Suddenly uncomfortable at the comparison. He grabbed a tray and loaded a plate with hot food. Sat wearily at a table. He closed his eyes briefly, so tired, wanting nothing more than to go to bed. To bed with Moira. He opened his eyes, saw her several tables away, sitting with Carson. Rodney joined him, with an even larger helping of food. John smiled, smirked, said nothing. Began to eat.

Moira was staring at John. At his disheveled appearance. At the way he bit into a juicy cheeseburger. The obvious enjoyment as he chewed, although he slowed, moving his bruised jaw carefully. He set the burger down, lifted a fork full of potato salad to his mouth. Licked his lips. Sipped some water. Seemed to be completely absorbed in his food. A slightly bored expression on his handsome face as Rodney was talking and eating at the same time.

"Moira, are you listening?"

The Scottish voice jolted her. She dragged her gaze from John, looked at Carson. Sheepishly smiled. "Sorry. I was miles away. You were talking about the enzyme, right? How it somehow should have been cancelled by the Hoffan serum but wasn't?"

"Yes...but you were not miles away. Only a few tables away," the doctor perceptively remarked. "Finish that and go to bed, Moira. Doctor's orders." He stood.

"Where are you–"

"I need to say a few words to Colonel Sheppard."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Carson, no!" She faltered as her raised voice drew stares. Including an inquisitive one from John. Moira sat back down, not realizing she had been standing. She quickly downed the rest of the beef stew.

John's gaze lingered. On her rosy face. On the fall of her loose hair swirling past her shoulders down to her breasts. As she licked her lips. Drank her water with quick swallows. Sighed. Stared morosely at her now empty plate.

"Ah, Carson, come join us," Rodney invited. "We were just discussing, well, I was discussing the various ways to boost our radios and their signals. We need a stronger transmission in those extreme scenarios. I was just about to suggest a rather refined version of a–"

"I need to speak to Colonel Sheppard. Privately."

"Privately? Oh...all right, I guess. I guess..." Rodney slowly rose, taking his tray. He moved to another table, looking back several times.

John met Carson's gaze. "What is it, doc?" He lifted a fork full of food, paused.

Carson took the seat vacated by Rodney. Folded his hands together on the table. "Colonel...I may be out of line here, but I have to say something."

"About?" John asked, a warning in his eyes.

Carson disregarded it. "John...you're not very good with women, are you?"

John nearly dropped the fork. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, of course you excel in most other areas but when it comes to verbal communication you seem to falter. I know it's not my place but you both have been through a very traumatic series of events. Maybe you don't need to talk it through but Moira does. And the very fact that you either can't see that or don't want to see that has me concerned about–"

"Your point?" John asked tightly. Tensing. His grip on the fork about to bend it.

Carson was unfazed. "I'm just saying, John, that if it had been me who risked life and limb, who had feared the woman I loved had been killed I wouldn't be sitting half a room away from her."

He stood. "Excuse me. I need to check on my patients."

John stared, stunned at the rebuke, surprised at the knowledge. Wondered if Moira had said anything. He watched Carson leave. His gaze drifted to find Moira, but she was gone as well. He found himself irritated, relieved. Scowled at his neglected food.

"Are you going to finish that?" Rodney asked, returning. "What did Carson want? He seemed very serious, and you looked like you were going to shoot him or...is that a brownie? Where did you find a brownie?"

John dropped the laden fork to his plate. Stood. "Knock yourself out." He strode out of the cafeteria, thoughts whirling. Reaching Moira's door he knocked. "Moira?" He waited. "It's John," he needlessly identified. Waited. Waved the door open. He crossed the threshold, shut the door behind him. Viewed the empty room, the bed. Smiled. He sat on the bed, intending to wait. He laid back, sighed. The mattress seemed to enfold him, relax him, and he wondered again how she had scored a bigger, more comfortable bed. He found himself kicking off his shoes, hauling himself up towards the pillows. Aching muscles made him lie still. Close his eyes and clear his mind.

**************************************************************************

Moira looked around, surreptitiously handed Evan the bag of corn chips. "If Carson asks you have no idea how you got them."

Evan smiled, taking the bag. "Thanks." He ate a few, crunching noisily. Folded up the bag and hit it under his pillow. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like hell."

She smiled. "Thanks. Nice to know you haven't lost your charm."

He laughed, then frowned. Touched his head. "Seriously, what happened to you, Moira?"

"Ford," she answered simply.

"Ford? Aiden Ford?" He almost jumped out of the bed, but she gently stopped him. "What else did I miss?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Ford. Cave creatures. Mutated humans. A Wampa. Don't worry, it's all in the reports. I'm just glad you're okay, Evan. Some of the ice formations were spectacular! There was a frozen waterfall that–"

"What? Slow down! Cave creatures? Mutants? Wampa?"

She smiled. "Not a Wampa...actually more like a Yeti. But deformed by the enzyme, no doubt. It was incredible, Evan. I've never seen anything like it. It has to be a indigenous species to the Pegasus galaxy, because we have nothing like that on Earth." She frowned. "Unless it was an Abominable Snowman that was seeded, and was transformed by the–"

"Did you not understand me, Moira?" Carson scolded. "Off to bed with you! Now!"

She sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow." She stood, followed the doctor. "Carson, what did you say to John, I mean, to Colonel Sheppard?" She fell back on the formalities, nervous. Embarrassed as he seemed to know all about them, their relationship. But oddly comfortable too.

"Go to bed," Carson repeated.

Moira relented. She trudged to her room, entered. Closing the door she stared at the bed. John was sprawled on his back, limbs flung across the blankets. Snoring softly. She smiled, stepped out of her shoes. Walked over slowly, eyes running over him head to foot. Mussed hair. Scruffy jaw. Black zippered shirt snug on his lean torso. It had ridden up a little, giving her a teasing view of his waist. Snug gray pants leaving little to the imagination as he shifted in his sleep. Moira sat close. Touched his arm, ran her fingers in a caress. "John? John?" She gently nudged him, touching his side.

John moved, shifting, stopped snoring. Muttered. Stayed asleep. Moira smiled. She leaned close. "John," she whispered into his ear. Gently kissed along his throat. Gently brushed her lips along his, then his jaw. She unzipped the shirt, ran her fingers under the fabric to gently tug his chest hair. "John," she wooed, drawing out his name. Caressing his hair, his arm, his chest as her kisses wandered over his cheek, throat, lips.

John drifted back to consciousness slowly, swimming out of a heavy sleep. He became aware of Moira. Her hair tickling his face. Her body's warmth, softness pressing against him. Her mouth moving over his, engaging his lips in repeated motions. Her fingers caressing sore muscles. A smile formed. Feeling her fingers slide down, down to his pants. To unbuckle his belt. To unbutton. To unzip. To slide her fingers in to stroke against his shorts. As his body reacted he opened his eyes, caught her hand. "Moira? I must have fallen asleep. I was waiting for you. To talk," he explained, voice still heavy with sleepiness.

Moira paused, meeting his gaze. Brilliant green eyes sparkling with amusement. She smiled. "To talk? You?" she teased. She leaned close, kissed him again, teasing his mouth open with hers, tongue darting shyly. Invitingly.

He gently moved her back. "Carson said you wanted to talk," he explained, suddenly serious.

"You–" His words dissolved into another kiss.

"We are talking," she soothed, moving his hands back against the bed. Sliding her body along his. She kissed him lengthily, squirming expertly until he moaned.

"Moira," he tried to focus, "you know, you know I'm not very good at this, um, this talking thing...all that stuff..." he awkwardly explained.

"I know, but you are very, very good at this kind of talking," she purred into his ear, running kisses down his throat. Murmuring slightly to tease him.

"I'm serious, Moira," he tried again, even as his hands slid up to her back. Under the dark green shirt to unhook her bra.

She settled against him, touched his side. "So am I, John." She sighed contentedly, nestling comfortably, slipping off him. "I'm sorry. You must be sore, aching, exhausted. Go back to sleep, John." She closed her eyes.

He smiled, stroking her bare back under the shirt. "Are you sure you don't want to talk?"

"I don't want to talk," she echoed sleepily. "Just...just stay with me...stay."

He kissed her brown, closed his eyes. "All right. If that's what you want." A sense of relief filled him. Then disappointment at the reversal of their desire. He closed his eyes, succumbing to his exhaustion, her warmth, the cozy bed, the darkened room.

John dreamed. Of the ice cave. The bluish dancing lights. Ford. The man with the gaping hole in his chest coming back to life. Moira's voice, desperately calling for him. Her piercing scream echoing forever. John bolted upright, reaching for his non-existent gun. His heard pounded. His muscles tensed. He took a deep breath, released it. Realized where he was. He looked around the darkened room. Gazed down upon Moira.

Losing her hold of him she stirred, fingers grasping, reaching. "John?" She opened her eyes, touching his side. Grabbing his shirt.

"It's all right, Moira."

"What time is it?" she asked, yawning into her hand.

He laid back down, glanced over at the clock. "Two in the morning. Go back to sleep."

Instead she sat up, shoved her hair out of her face. "What woke you?"

"It was nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing woke you out of a sound sleep?" she tested. Suspicious.

"It was a dream," he grumpily confessed.

"A bad dream? Or a bad memory?" she persisted.

He sighed. "You want to talk now? At two in the morning?"

"I...I just...I just wondered what, what upset you, John. The way you nearly shot off the bed I thought you had the same..." She stopped. Looked at the darkness. Wiped her eyes.

He stared. "Moira? The same? The same what?" Perplexed he watched her, could only dimly see her profile. The fall of her hair. The curves of her breasts. "Moira? The same dream?" he wondered, puzzled.

"I'm sorry. It doesn't matter." She sighed. "Forget I said anything." She gingerly touched her side, fingered the bandage. She kept silent, staring at nothing. The gentle swishing of the ocean could be heard. Waves breaking back and forth. Back and forth.

"You're upset?" he asked after several minutes of waiting for her to speak. "Moira?"

"Of course I'm upset!" she snapped. "We've been through a lot, John! What did you expect? I almost lost...I almost caused another...but since you're not bothered by it just go back to sleep."

She swallowed her words, her emotions. Stared at the darkness.

John closed his eyes. Frowned. Hating this, dreading this. He opened his eyes, glanced over at the clock. Watched the minutes pass. Finally he looked back at her. She had not moved. Seemed to trapped in a memory, the past. Her fingers were resting near his leg, touching the fabric of his pants. He swallowed. "I dreamed...I remembered...I thought I lost you. When you called my name, then screamed. I tried my damned best but I couldn't get to you. I fought. When I came to you were still gone. Then Ford told me. What he did. How you were probably killed by the fall, or impaled, or killed by those things. I...I couldn't focus. I couldn't think. I couldn't lose another...I couldn't lose you..."

She looked at him as his voice fell to a whisper. Husky with emotion. Tears sparkled in her eyes. Her expression was full of startled surprise, sympathy, warmth. "I thought I lost you too...when you let go...that last look...I thought I'd caused another man to die for...how could you let go?"she whispered.

He sat up, ran his thumb gently over her scratched cheek, felt the wetness of her tears. "How could I not?" he replied, voice grave. "I've never felt such utter despair...well, not in a long, long time..." he admitted. The words coming slowly, thickly. "Moira, you know. I mean you know how I...you know how I feel about...you...Moira. I mean this...it's not just...you know...I didn't know, or want to know before...then when I thought you were..."

She touched his lips, halting his awkward, uncomfortable revelations. "I know. I felt it too, I mean, I feel it too, John...this...it's not just a...you know...just a...I mean, I know how I felt. Feel. I wasn't sure how you...I mean...you keep things so close I didn't know you felt...feel..."

"I'm sorry...I mean...this stuff...isn't easy for me...you know. I mean it should be obvious how I feel when we are–"

"It's not, John." She sighed, looked at her hands. "I mean, obviously this part, the physical part, of course. I mean, I'm not looking for any other...neither are you...but this...I mean...I don't know what I mean! I mean it's like we're grasping at straws, I mean we've never talked about this, this part, how much we may or may not feel, or want to feel, or need to–"

He moved her hand aside, stopped her equally awkward stammering with a kiss. Another. Another. He moved her onto her back, his hands sliding deftly to her pants. To unbutton. To unzip. To caress against the satin panties until she murmured, squirmed. Thighs parting. He moved between them, his kisses deepening as he removed the garments separating them.

"John," she breathed, moving in tandem beneath him. She winced.

"Sorry," he said, shifting his weight. He slid up her shirt, kissed around the bandage, ran his mouth higher, higher. Lifted his head before reaching a breast. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No...no..."she whispered, pulling him close, inviting him with her body, her motions. Her mouth as his joined hers again. "John...oh John...faster. Harder."

He quietly laughed against her skin, but held back. "Are you sure? Moira," he breathed into her ear, "do we still need to talk?"

"Yes! I mean, no..no..." she laughed softly as he chuckled. The passion growing, growing. "No, we don't need to talk, John."

He smiled. "Good. I prefer this kind of talking anyway."


End file.
